


How I Met Your Father

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 95,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry sits his kids down and tells them a story. A very long story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest.
> 
> This was created for Prompt Number: T73  
> Original Work Name: How I Met Your Mother
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: This is going to be a rather long note, seeing that there are so many people to thank for this fic coming together. Dear prompter, I’m not going to lie. This took everything out of me. It was exhausting and humbling and at one point, I really didn’t think it would happen. But it was also a lot of fun and finishing it feels like a huge achievement, so thank you for giving me something this awesome to work with. I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. digthewriter, words can’t describe just what it is you’ve done for this story. You went above and beyond to bring it all together. It would have fallen apart if it wasn’t for you. You are and always will be the best beta ever and I can’t thank you enough. Lovely mods, thank you for the countless extensions and your never ending patience. I would also like to apologise in advance if this fic isn’t entirely up to scratch; that’s all on me. There was a lot to work with. Combining a great show and a brilliant book series turned out to be pretty difficult — as I found out— and it’s entirely possible I didn’t do either of them justice. But I tried. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Thank you and happy reading!

James Sirius was quite sure he had never run this fast in all his sixteen years. He sprinted down the street, nearly skidding on the frosted sidewalks of Godric’s Hollow. His sides ached and there was a distinct burning sensation in his chest which could _not_ be good, but still he ran as fast as he could. He was almost there. Now, he could spot the little cottage in the distance as he hurtled past a small, peaceful cemetery he’d visited every year since he was a little boy. Despite his haste, he paused for a second at a familiar spot — panting and out of breath.

“Hi Grandma, Grandpa. Can’t talk now, there’s an emergency. Be back soon. Okay, bye!”

Alright, so maybe it was a silly habit but he liked to talk to his Grandma Lily and Grandpa James every now and then. Big deal. Nobody needed to know that little detail — not even his siblings. Scratch that. _Especially_ his siblings.

The thought of said siblings brought his current situation back to mind. James clutched the piece of tattered parchment in his fist and resumed course. Scorpius’ note hadn’t said much, but then again, neither did Scorpius. This is what he’d deigned to tell James in that little missive:

 

_James,_

_We’ve got a situation. Come home now._

_We need you._

_Scorpius_

 

The sneaky little blighter. He knew _just_ what not to say to make James presume the worst. Now he wouldn’t be able to relax until he was sure the kids were alright. Angela hadn’t been very happy at being abandoned on their first actual date, but she was a sporting sort. James would make it up to her later. 

Finally, he was running up the small driveway and to the house.

It was calm. Frost lined the windows and a soft, welcoming light shone from inside. Snow drifted down gently, lining the rooftop and dotting the trees. The winter scene brought a certain sense of peace to his mind. It was soothing. Quiet and tranquil. 

Those were not phrases James usually associated with his family.

Whatever this was, he would bet his Firebolt 3000 that it was Not A Good Thing.

He padded down the driveway filled with a sense of foreboding. As usual, he had to jiggle the door a little to open it, but it gave way without protest. James stepped inside, padding down the familiar hall to the family room.

Scorpius was the first to spot him. “Thank Merlin!” he exclaimed in relief. He was sitting on the sofa with Al and Lily on either side. Lily waved at him and Al greeted him with a grin, beckoning him over.

“You made it!” he cheered. “We were wondering when you’d show up.”

James approached, frowning suspiciously. This didn’t look like an emergency. No, this looked like a set up.

He _knew_ it!

“What’s going on?” he growled.

Scorpius blinked innocently. “Didn’t you get my note?” he asked.

“You said there was an emergency,” James informed him shortly.

“Did I?” Scorpius cocked his head and tapped his finger against his chin, frowning for added effect. “No, I believe I used the word ‘situation’. Completely different, don’t you know? But I see your point. What an _unfortunate_ misunderstanding.” Lily stifled a giggle and Al coughed, apparently trying to hide a snort of laughter.

James was going to hex someone. Three someones, to be specific. “Seriously?” he spat indignantly. “What the hell, guys? I was on a date!”

“Family comes first,” Lily announced primly. “Besides, we didn’t want to do this without you.”

“Do _what_ without me?” James demanded.

“In a word, suffer,” Al replied. His green eyes glinted as he regarded his older brother, his expression uncharacteristically grim.

James frowned, trying to make sense of this. “What are you...”

Oh.

Oh no. 

He trailed off and his eyes widened. Slowly but surely, he came to a very foreboding conclusion.

Oh for Godric’s sake, not this again!

“I’m leaving,” James blurted, shaking his head frantically and backing away. “I was never here. You never saw me!”

“Don’t you dare!” Scorpius snapped, getting up abruptly. Albus followed suit, advancing on his retreating sibling. “If we’re going to suffer, _you’re_ going to suffer! That’s how it works!”

Oh, _hell_ no.

“Good luck!” James yelped, making a run for it. He dodged Albus and made for the door. His hand was on the doorknob and he just a hair’s breadth from freedom when...

“James?”

_Damn it._

James sighed in defeat and turned around. “Hi Dad,” he mumbled. Dad smiled welcomingly and ushered him over. James’ shoulders slumped and he trudged back, allowing his father to pull him into a half-hug.

 _So_ close.

“I thought you had a date tonight,” Dad said, ruffling his hair affectionately. James tried not to squirm away on general principle.

“I do, actually,” he replied, sensing an opportunity for escape. “So, I’ll just...”

“Call it off and stay here with the family,” Scorpius finished smoothly. He had managed to sidle over to the door, the sneak. He held James’ gaze meaningfully as he locked it. James scowled and made a mental note to get even later. Maybe hide the git’s hair potions...

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Dad said, leading him back inside. “I didn’t want to tell this story without you.”

James suppressed a groan and joined his siblings on the sofa, making sure to shove Al out of the way. His brother just grinned and sprawled on the other side, planting his legs on Scorpius’ lap. Lily curled into Al’s shoulder comfortably. Dad settled on his favourite armchair across from them, nursing a scotch. James wondered if he could angle for a small glass if he promised to sit tight for another one of these stories. He was almost of age. Then again, probably not. Father would hit the roof if he found out...

“This is a very special story,” Dad began, twirling the glass in his fingers. He always did that when he was getting ready for a nice, long talk. “This is the story of how I met your father.”

The atmosphere of the room shifted abruptly. James could almost sense the relief pouring in.

“Oh, we’ve heard _that_ one,” Lily chirped.

“School rivals, Gryffindor versus Slytherin,” Albus added, edging away subtly. “Lots of duels and pranks and witty banter...”

“A dragon or two, overcoming differences,” Scorpius put in, taking his brother’s example and trying to make a break for it. “Great story, Dad. Positively riveting. So if you need us, we’ll be...”

“Hold it.”

The younger boys groaned and slumped back on the sofa. James hid a smirk. Amateurs. Dad never told the same story twice. They were always different. Always new. Always long.

Just _so_ long.

“Your Father and I were together at school,” Dad agreed. “But that was just part of the story. This is the story of how it all came together. How I met him again _._ ” He paused and smiled softly, his green eyes glinting in the firelight. “And how I fell in love with him.”

“Oh,” Scorpius muttered bleakly. “How...wonderful.”

“Yay,” Al deadpanned.

James smirked maliciously. “If I suffer, you suffer,” he stage whispered to them. Scorpius scowled and dug an elbow in his ribs.

“I want to hear it,” Lily protested, frowning at her brothers. “I like Daddy’s stories.”

“Of course you do,” Al grumbled. “You’re eleven.”

“They’re romantic!” Lily shrilled, pushing him angrily. James sighed and pulled her over before they could start scrapping. Lily stuck her tongue out at Al before snuggling into James’ shoulder. James grinned fondly and ruffled her hair. Oh alright, so maybe it wasn’t _that_ bad.

“Okay Dad,” he conceded. “You got us. Tell the story. But do you think you can make it a fast one?”

Dad grinned in a manner that didn’t reassure him at all. “I’ll do my best,” he promised. “It all started twenty years ago. The war was over and I had just finished Hogwarts, ready to face the world with a bright and shiny new future. Of course, I wasn’t alone. I was sharing a flat with your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. It was the best time of our lives. We were young, drunk on our hope and dreams. It was a wonderful time to be alive...”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 1** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“My life is over,” Harry mumbled, gazing despondently into the depths of his third beer. “I want to die. If you were my real friends, you would kill me now.”

Even the cheerful din and clamour of the Leaky Cauldron couldn’t drown out Ron’s groan of dismay. They were sitting in what all three of them thought of as ‘their booth’ now. A little island tucked away at the back, with Harry seated on one side and Ron and Hermione wedged in on the other. It was an old haunt — one that they had frequented ever since they’d all graduated from Hogwarts two years ago. It was a place they associated with cheap beer, good food and a lot of laughs.

All things considered, Harry had definitely seen better days here.

Hermione suppressed an eye roll and patted Harry’s shoulder in a placating manner. “So things didn’t work out with Gloria,” she said, in that practiced soothing manner of hers. “It’s hardly the end of the world, Harry.”

“Yes, it is,” Harry insisted moodily. “I _loved_ her, Mione. She was perfect.”

“Um, no,” Ron declared firmly. “She supported the Holyhead Harpies.”

Hermione sighed and fixed her boyfriend with an exasperated expression. “Really, Ron?”

“There are boundaries, Mione.”

Well, Harry had to admit he made a good point. It was the Chudley Cannons or nothing as far as he was concerned. “Fine,” he conceded. “ _Besides_ that, she was perfect. And I’m never going to find another one like her.”

“And whose fault is that, my frumpy friend?”

Ron groaned again, and with good reason. Blaise Zabini ignored him as he strutted up to their table, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. Harry had to admit he could pull it off. Blaise was the only person he knew who could walk into the Leaky Cauldron in an Armani Classic and not get laughed right back out.

“Have you learnt nothing from me, Harry?” the man demanded as he took his seat. “What did I tell you? I’ll tell you what I told you. I told you to wear a suit. A suit, Harry! Just once when I say _suit up_ , I’d like you to actually suit up.”

“I did that one time,” Harry protested half heartedly.

“That was a blazer,” Blaise retorted with an exaggerated shudder.

Ron threw his arms up in defeat. “Again, someone please explain it to me. _Why_ do we hang out with this bloke?”

“Ah, allow me to elaborate on that,” Blaise replied smoothly. “You Weasley, may think of me as a guide, a prophet if you will...”

“No, I won’t.”

“You see, everything in life happens for a reason. It’s like my father always said. _The universe works in strange and subtle ways but a wise man is one who makes it work for him._ ”

Hermione frowned. “I thought your father always said _never insult the person who handles your food._ ”

“That was my _first_ father, Granger. Try to keep up. Anyway as I was saying, I’m here to impart my wisdom, to guide you on your darkened paths and lead you to salvation. I, gentlemen, am here to teach you how to live. Except you Weasley, you’re shackled to this one.” He gestured disparagingly at Hermione who scowled and smacked his arm.

“We should go,” she announced, grabbing her purse. “Harry, we’ll see you back at the flat. Blaise, try to stay out of trouble. Seriously, don’t do anything stupid or dangerous or...oh, who am I kidding?” With that, she waved a goodbye, kissed Harry on the cheek and took her leave.

Blaise waved cheerfully as she left, dragging Ron behind her. “Ugh,” he shuddered, taking a large swig of beer — _Harry’s_ beer. “I have to tell you, Harry. Those two give me the creeps. They’re practically _married_. It’s tragic, I tell you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure love and commitment aren’t contagious. Your bachelorhood is safe, Blaise.”

“Thank Merlin,” Blaise retorted with a grimace. “Now let’s get you laid, shall we?”

Harry stiffened at once. It was times like this that he honestly wondered _why_ he was friends with Blaise. Every single time they hung out together, something bad happened. Usually, to Harry.

“You know, it’s late,” he hedged, trying to sidle away. “And I’m still not really over Gloria yet. So…”

“For Salazar’s sake!” Blaise slammed the table with his fist, making Harry jump. His dark eyes glinted intensely as he glared. “This is exactly what I was talking about. Harry, I can’t let you waste away over some bint you shagged once! As your best friend…”

“Actually, Ron is my…”

“As your _best_ friend, I have a responsibility. Now get up!” Harry groaned as Blaise grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the bar, evidently determined to see this through. Protest was pointless, and Harry knew it. Blaise had that grin again— the one that always preceded a bad hangover or a night in Auror custody, sometimes both. “We’re going to play a little game,” he announced cheerfully. “It’s called ‘Have you Met Harry’?”

“Blaise, please don’t…”

But Blaise was already making his way towards his victim. Harry barely caught a glance of her— a slim girl in a red cardigan. Her back was turned to them, and she hadn’t noticed Blaise’s stealthy approach yet. Bloody brilliant. Harry waited, absently wondering if the prat would get slapped or a face full of whatever she was drinking. If there was any justice in the world, it would be both. His eyes drifted back to the girl and he cocked his head, frowning as he looked her over again. Was there something familiar about her?  It looked like…

Then Blaise reached out and Harry’s eyes widened as he abruptly realised what it was.

Her hair.

Her _red_ hair.

Blaise tapped her shoulder smartly and she turned around. Harry’s breath caught as familiar, brown eyes widened in surprise.

“Hi. Have you met Harry?” Blaise asked with a charming grin.

Ginny Weasley smiled back and tilted her head. “I think so,” she replied. Those brown eyes drifted to Harry, and he felt his world tilt ever so slightly. It was just like in the movies. When she looked at him and her smile widened, he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Harry,” Ginny said. She came over and put her arms around him, drawing him in for a friendly hug. Harry’s breath hitched and he wrapped an awkward arm around her.

Ginny. It was _Ginny_.

After all this time...

“Damn, I’m good,” Blaise declared, looking rather pleased with himself. He flashed Harry a parting grin and took off, leaving him alone with her. 

With Ginny Weasley.

Gods, it had been so long...

“I thought you were in America,” Harry said, pulling away. From what he had heard from Ron, she was working for the Wizarding Wireless Network over there. She had left right after Hogwarts. Just packed her bags and taken off with a cheerful wave and a promise to write often. She hadn’t even said goodbye.

“I just got back in town,” Ginny said with a laugh. “They gave me a position on the home front and well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” Harry whispered. He couldn’t really help the delighted grin broke out on his face.

Ginny was back. The woman of his dreams was back.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Okay, _whoa._ Hold on a minute,” Scorpius broke in. He looked a bit green. “Please tell me you didn’t...oh Merlin, not with Aunt Ginny. Tell me it’s a lie!”

Al looked rather unhappy with the prospect too. “I don’t think I like this story,” he mumbled fretfully.

“We’ve not even started yet,” Dad replied, waving them off impatiently. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 1** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“She’s the one.” Harry sighed dreamily as he sprawled on the sofa in his flat. “That’s the girl I’m going to marry.”

Ginny. Ginny Weasley. The girl with the soft, brown eyes and that killer smile. The girl he’d thought about almost constantly since Sixth Year. His very first love. They’d had a tentative summer romance before the war. Then things finally came around but Ginny left and Harry had let her go. He had tried his best to forget about her, painful though it was.

Now she was home again and he couldn’t help but think it was fate. It had to be. They were meant to be together.

His happy train of thought was promptly interrupted by Ron throwing a cushion in his face.

“Knock it off,” he ordered sternly. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you she was coming back.”

Harry blinked at him. “What? Why?”

Ron sighed and ran a hassled hand through his hair. “Harry, you’re my best mate. I love you like a brother but let’s face it— you and Ginny? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Harry demanded, sitting up abruptly. “Is this one of those protective big brother things?”

“No, this is one of those get-your-head-out-of-your-arse things,” Ron countered. “You know Ginny. She’s all about the independence and her career. There’s not much else she thinks about. And then we have _you_ …”

“Ron has a point,” Hermione agreed, joining them on the sofa. “I love Ginny but she’s not looking for anything serious. And you are. I’d pass on this one, Harry.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Harry argued. “You two are practically married. You’re so bloody perfect for each other. It’s giving Blaise the willies.”

They exchanged fond smiles— the kind that only couples who are meant to be together ever share. Smiles of warmth and perfect understanding. Harry sighed. That was what he wanted. That, right there. Surely, Ginny did too? Who wouldn’t?

“It’s funny that we’re talking about marriage,” Ron spoke up suddenly. He cleared his throat and fumbled with his collar. “All this talk about commitment and taking the next step…”

“I know, it’s odd,” Hermione agreed. “Hey, does anyone want some curry takeaway?”

“The next step,” Ron continued. “You know, _the_ big decision...”

“I could go for some curry,” Harry put in.

“Oh for the love of Godric, enough with the curry!” Ron snapped. “I’m trying to do something here, people!”

They shut up and exchanged puzzled looks. Hermione turned to Ron, her expression concerned. “Ron, what’s going on?” she asked softly.

“Okay,” Ron muttered, nodding firmly. “Okay, we’re doing this.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than them. Harry wondered what this was all about and if he should be worried. Ron cleared his throat one more time and got up...

...and then he went down on one knee and Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“Oh Merlin,” Harry blurted.

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione squeaked.

“Oh yeah,” Ron confirmed, pulling out a velvet box. His blue eyes were intense and his smile was hopeful as he gazed adoringly at his girlfriend. “Mione, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Every day with you is one more day of me being the luckiest bloke in the world. I don’t ever want that to change. I’ve thought about this for a long time and I just couldn’t find the perfect way to tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you’re here and that’s pretty damn perfect, as far as I’m concerned. So, this is me asking you to marry me. Think you can do me a solid here?”

Harry wasn’t sure when the world went right side up again but by the time he had regained his bearings, Hermione was sobbing and wrapped around Ron whispering _yes_ over and over again. Harry’s heart surged and a grin broke out on his face.

Bloody _hell_.

Ron caught his eye and grinned back. “Mate, I did it! We’re getting married!” He looked like the happiest man in the world.

Harry laughed and crouched down to pull them both in a hug. His friends were finally getting married. Gods, it was about time! And he had been right here when Ron popped the question. He was _so_ telling his kids this story someday…

“Congratulations,” he said fervently, still grinning like a loon. “This...this is brilliant! You guys are amazing together. Merlin, I’m so happy for...”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione cut in with a giddy laugh. Her brown eyes shone with such happiness that it made his heart soar. “But I think you should take off now.”

“What? Why…”

Hermione laughed and pulled Ron in for a firm kiss. “You really don’t want to stick around for what’s going to happen next,” she informed him with a mischievous wink.

Message received.

Harry chuckled and headed out. He could always join Blaise for a drink at the Leaky.

Or…

Harry grinned as he shut the door behind him. There was something else he could do. He pulled out his mobile and dialled Ginny’s number. Honestly, he was glad Blaise had finally convinced everyone to get one of these. Even if they had to put up with daily updates on Blaise’s barely censored blog, the convenience was worth it.

“Hey, Gin. It’s Harry. I was wondering...if you’re not busy tonight, do you want to get a drink?”

 

****

 

The days turned into weeks and with every passing moment, Harry was more and more certain that Ginny was the one for him. She had everything. She was smart and funny and just so damn beautiful. They were meeting almost every day now. She had her own place right across from the Alley and Harry often stopped by after a long day at Auror training. On other days, he would come home and find her at his flat, talking and laughing with Ron and Hermione and helping out with the wedding plans.

It just felt so right. So natural. Ginny had just walked right in and completed their little group. It was so easy and comfortable with her. Harry couldn’t imagine how they’d gotten along without her for so long.

Unfortunately, not everyone was that comfortable with changing dynamics.

 **“No!”** Blaise screeched. Harry winced at the sheer volume. For a tall, suave bloke, Blaise could throw quite the tantrum. “No, no, a thousand times no! It’s Friday night, for Salazar’s sake! You’re not abandoning me for the third time in a row!”

“Blaise, come on,” Harry pleaded, straightening his shirt and grabbing a jacket. “Ginny and I really want to catch this film. Hey, why don’t you come with us?”

Blaise looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or whip out his wand. Harry edged behind the sofa, just in case.

“Let me run this by you again,” Blaise bit out. He rummaged in his pocket and whipped out two scraps of paper, brandishing them in Harry’s face with flourish. “In my hand, I have two tickets to Witch Weekly’s Annual Fundraiser for orphans or puppies or...orphaned puppies, something like that. Not important! What’s important is that it’s on a yacht. A _yacht_ , Harry! A yacht full of hot, drunk supermodels looking to mingle with the rich and famous! And you’re going to bail on me to play Gobstones with Genevieve?”

“Actually, it’s Ginevra. And it’s a film. And yes.”

“Just….are you… **lingerie models on a boat!** ”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Harry offered with a rueful grin that didn’t appease Blaise at all.

“Fine,” he spat, stalking towards the door with his head held high. “Go then. Marry her, for all I care. Have four— no, _ten_ little brats with awful hair and zero dress sense! And don’t come crying to me when you’re old and...and _bald_ and you’ve never even seen a yacht because I won’t be there, Potter! Oh, you’ll never see me again, I promise you that! Goodbye, Worst Wingman Ever! It has **not** been a pleasure...”

“See you for drinks tomorrow at the Leaky?”

“Fine! But I’m still angry!”

Harry grinned as he slammed the door on his way out, upsetting a photo on the wall and knocking a sheaf of papers off the side table in the process. Blaise would be fine. He always bounced back. Harry shook his head and knelt to pick up the papers. Hermione would have a fit if he left them for her to pick up and...

Huh. This was weird.

Harry frowned as he scanned the official document. This was from The Ministry for Educational Affairs. In Brussels, apparently. What was this doing here? He shrugged and put it back in the folder, making a note to ask about it later.

For now, he had a film to catch. Ginny was waiting for him.

Harry left the flat with a proverbial spring in his step. Good things were coming. He could feel it.

 

****

**Later that night…**

 

“So, what was your favourite part?” Harry asked as they walked out of the theatre. It was chilly tonight. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. He had offered his coat to Ginny earlier the evening but she had insisted she wasn’t cold.

Ginny hummed as she thought it over. “Oh, the part where the lights went on again and we were allowed to leave.” She laughed at Harry’s flabbergasted expression. “What? You liked it?”

“Well, yeah!” Harry blurted incredulously. She _hadn’t_ liked it? “I mean, you can’t go wrong with the classics right? Boy meets girl, they fall in love, tragic misunderstanding and then happily ever after. Boom. Instant classic.”

“Really?” Ginny quipped dryly. She halted in the street and turned to him. Her brow creased a bit and Harry had the distinct impression that he was about to be tested.  “So the part where she gave up her dream job to be with the guy forever struck a chord with you?”

“Well…”

“Because the only thing _I_ saw was a girl who traded everything she worked for her entire life as soon as it was in reach. All for a little house with a picket fence.”

“For someone she fell in love with!” Harry argued. Ginny laughed again and somehow, it was the most disheartening sound he had ever heard. “Come on,” he insisted. He wasn’t sure why but he really wanted her to see his side of it. “Is it that distasteful to you? Finding the right person? Finding love? Having a family?”

Ginny’s smile faded and she took his hand, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. It’s just...Harry, I grew up in the little house with the picket fence. I lived all my life in that little house with six brothers, all falling over each other. All I could ever think was — is this it? That’s all Mum ever did with her life and I guess it’s okay because she wanted it. But I just...I want more, you know? And now, I’m seeing you after all these years and it’s so complicated. You’re just...you’re looking at me like...‘let’s get married and have four kids and take them all to Quidditch practice’.”

“That’s not fair. I’d let them play Swivenhodge if they wanted to.”

Ginny squeezed his hand again, not even smiling at his sad little joke. “I’m sorry, Harry. I really like you, I’ve _always_ liked you. But marriage? Kids? That’s not me. I’m just not looking for a relationship. The best I can handle right now is something casual.”

Harry sighed. A dull ache settled in his chest.“Well, that sucks. Because I don’t think I can do casual. Especially with you.”

“I know,” she replied with a sad little smile. “I’ll see myself home. Goodbye, Harry.”

Harry sighed as she Apparated away, leaving nothing but a faint trace of her perfume. His lips twitched in a sad little smile. Watching Ginny walk away from him again — it was just like old times.

Everything he wanted was so close, and yet so far away.

 

****

 

A week after that non date, Harry found himself back at the Leaky Cauldron with his friends — not to mention, the newest addition to their group. Nevertheless, it was business as usual.

“...and then I shagged her brains out,” Blaise finished. “True story.”

Harry suppressed a grin as Ron broke into a slow clap.

“Don’t you just love surprise endings?” Ginny added dryly.  

Blaise scowled at the resulting round of chuckling. “Have I mentioned I don’t like you very much?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. Apparently, she sensed a challenge here. “See that girl over there by the bar?” she asked, gesturing subtly at her intended target. Harry followed the general direction until his gaze landed on an attractive blonde, sitting alone and sipping on a margarita.

“Oh, hello _legs_ ,” Blaise drawled, eyeing her approvingly.

“That’s the ticket,” Ginny agreed with a decisive nod. “Okay rookie, here’s how it’s going down. We’re going to go over there and act like a couple. You’re going to make calf eyes at me and ask me to move in with you. Make sure you lay it on thick. I’ll be playing the heartless bitch this evening. I’m going to tell you that I’m leaving you for your best friend, breaking your wee, little heart in a million pieces. I take off and you’re going to sit there looking all devastated. Soon enough, she’ll step in and be your shoulder to cry on. That’s when you get your game on.” She grinned smugly and took a sip of her beer. “Works every time.”

Stunned silence greeted her little speech. Harry, Ron and Hermione stared with alternate looks of shock and horror.

It was Ron who broke the flabbergasted silence with a groan. “Oh Merlin, now there’s _two_ of them!”

Blaise just looked awed.

“The Evil Ex play,” he whispered, sounding almost reverent. Harry tried not to face-palm as Blaise grinned in sheer delight. “Simple. Yet effective! How did you know about...”

“I practically invented it.”

“Welcome to the family, Red,” Blaise declared cheerfully. Ginny winked at the rest of the group and made her way to the bar. Blaise turned to Harry. “If you don’t marry her, I will,” he hissed urgently. “That woman is the Best Wingman Ever!”

Harry shook his head as Blaise hurried off to join Ginny. And so fell the last card. Even Blaise was on board now, and that meant it was official. Ginny had become a permanent part of their lives. It had been such a wonderful thought up until last week. Except now, Harry wasn’t sure it was a good thing, given how he still felt about her. But there was nothing to be done about it. Ginny was here, she was staying and that was that. He would just have to deal with it. Besides, she was hardly the first woman who had walked away from him. He would be okay. This was for the best…

Ron interrupted his train of thought by getting up abruptly. “Well, as eager as I am to see how that works out, I’m heading out. Mum’s going spare with the wedding details and I promised I’d help her fix up the Burrow,” he told them. Hermione smiled but she didn’t offer to go with him. Instead she just squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you at home then,” she told him. Ron kissed her cheek affectionately, nodded at Harry and took off.

Harry waved a goodbye and turned back to Hermione. He frowned as he realised she looked a bit...off. Not only that, she was scraping away at the one of the bottle labels.

_Uh oh._

Red flag, dead ahead. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked at once.

Hermione started and abandoned the bottle. “What...what do you mean?”

“Mione, I’ve known you for years. You only do that when you’re stressed out.”

Hermione frowned. Her eyes darted from him to the bottle. “I do not.”

“Really? Because when we were sitting for our NEWTS, I could have sworn you just had something against Butterbeer in general.” He chuckled at the memory of a younger Hermione surrounded by her Charms textbooks, Butterbeer bottles and a small mountain of label scraps. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Come on, talk to me. What’s the problem?”

Hermione bit her lip and her grip tightened on the bottle. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t said much all night. Okay, now Harry was starting to worry.

“Mione, what…”

“Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

For a second, he was just speechless. He wasn’t even sure what she was talking about.

“A mistake?”

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. “About this...the wedding, I mean.”

“The _wedding_?” Harry repeated. He was vaguely aware that his voice had gone up at least an octave. He gaped at there, not quite sure how to respond to that.

 _Where_ was this coming from?

Hermione nodded slowly and Harry launched into immediate, instinctive protest. “No! Of course not! I mean, it’s you and Ron. You two are meant to be together, you know? It’s...I can’t even...for Merlin’s sake, it’s _you_ and _Ron._ ”

“I know,” Hermione mumbled. She sniffed and started her fretful scraping again. “I know that and I love him so much, Harry. I really do. But...but sometimes it just feels like that all I’ll ever be is one half of _Hermione and Ron._ There’s no...there’s no _me_ anymore and that’s scaring me. I...I feel terrible for thinking it but…”

Harry shook his head helplessly. He didn’t know what to say. How long had she been feeling like this? Why the hell hadn’t he been informed about this? And just what was he supposed to say to her?

“Mione,” he tried finally, squeezing her hand for reassurance. “Where is all this coming from? I don’t understand why...” He trailed off as he remembered something.

The application form he had found the other day…. from Brussels.

“Oh, Merlin help me.” Harry slumped back in his chair.  He could hardly believe it. “You took a job in Brussels. You’re moving to Belgium!”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You saw the form,” she whispered, half to herself.

Harry could only nod. He felt numb. “When were you going to tell me?” he demanded. And then an awful thought struck and his insides twisted. “ _Were_ you going to tell me? Were you going to tell _Ron?_ ”

“Of course I was!” Hermione retorted sharply. “I just...I didn’t take it, Harry! I wasn’t going to! I just...I wanted to know if I was good enough, that’s all. And then they wrote back and said they wanted me to head the division and...”

“And what?” Harry demanded. “What...what happens now? Are you...you’re leaving?

“No! I mean...I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know?!_ ”

“Harry, stop it! This is why I didn’t say anything. With the way you’re acting, I can only imagine what Ron’s reaction would be.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. Merlin, when had she started crying? When had this new job become something to _cry_ about?

“Mione, you can’t do this now,” Harry protested. “You’re getting married in a few months. I thought you wanted this! We all did…”

“I do! Can’t I want other things too, Harry? What about _my_ career? They used to call me the Brightest Witch of Our Age! And what am I doing with my life? Stuck in a low end position at the Ministry here — kindergarten regulations and primary school budgets. I can do so much more! Brussels wants me to start a whole new education program! I could do so much with an opportunity like that.”

“And what about Ron?” Harry asked quietly.

Hermione lifted her chin stubbornly. “He can come with me. We haven’t discussed it but…”

“Hermione, no. You know he can’t. He’s working really hard at the Games and Sports Department. His evaluations are coming up and if he leaves now, he’s not moving ahead. Do you really want him to give that up? He loves his job!”

“So, what do you suggest?” she snapped. “I should give up my dreams then? Why, Harry? Why is _that_ fair?”

“It’s...not.”

Harry sighed heavily. The truth was that she was making a lot of sense. Well, not the running off to another country two months before her wedding...but the other things did have a ring of truth in them. She was smart and talented and bloody brilliant, Harry could personally vouch for that. But her superiors at the Ministry still looked at her as if she was a kid fresh out of Hogwarts. Hermione got stuck doing the gritwork and she had been passed over for a better position more times than he could count. But surely that wasn’t enough reason to give up everything else and move away? Things could change. She could get a better job right here! Why was she even thinking of leaving England? And Ron? And _Harry_ , for that matter?

Why was she doing this now?

“I don’t want you to have to choose,” he told her finally. “But Mione, you don’t _have_ to. You could stay here. Something better will come along, I know it will. Just...just think about it, please? Think about what you’re giving up. Is it really worth it?”

“You don’t understand,” Hermione replied tersely. “I know how this looks to you, Harry. You think I’m abandoning him, that I’m selfish for even thinking about this.”

Harry shook his head helplessly. “I don’t. I promise you, I don’t think that at all. But...I don’t want to lose you. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know. I guess...I guess I just want you to think about this all the way through. Please, promise me you’ll think about it carefully before making a decision.”

Apparently, he had said the wrong thing. Hermione set her jaw and got up. “It was just an application, Harry,” she said, packing up her things with shaky hands. “I wasn’t going to do anything about it. I just wanted to know if I was good enough. And...and it turns out that I _am_ and I can’t do anything about it, because I have to stay here and do what’s right for _Hermione and Ron._ I can’t do this just for me because apparently that’s selfish. I get it, okay? It’s fine. It’s just one more thing I deserve that I can’t have. Business as usual.”

“Hermione, please. I’m just…”

“You know, sometimes I wish I was more like Ginny. She never has to choose. She just does what she wants, consequences be damned.”

 “But…”

“I have to go, Harry. I...I need to think about some things. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

And with that, she turned on her heel and left. Harry stared after her, wondering what the hell had just happened. His eyes drifted to the bar where Ginny was still busy colluding with Blaise. She turned for a second and smiled, favouring him with a mischievous wink. Harry just sat there and stared, trying to figure out how she had managed to complicate his life yet again, and without even trying, at that.

 

****

 

It turned out that things would get even more complicated for Harry in the near future.

He soon found out that Hermione’s little blow-out that night was just the tip of the iceberg. Within a span of two months, his life spiralled into complete chaos and the best part was, Harry had very little to do with any of it.

First, Ginny started dating Dean Thomas again. Apparently, they worked together at the WWN and had hit it off on being reacquainted. Dean was smart and handsome and apparently, they were ‘on the same wavelength’ about things like dating and romance. Harry didn’t mind the phrase so much as the way Ginny giggled whenever she brought it up. Apparently, it was some sort of inside joke that only people in the radio business ever got.

 _Hilarious, really._  

And then there was Blaise.

To be fair, _he_ didn’t really do anything that he didn’t do on a regular basis anyway. Nevertheless, when he got held up at the International Portkey Office for trying to pick up women while posing as an Italian businessman, it was Harry who had to go bail him out. One of these days Blaise was going to get him suspended from Auror training, he just knew it. But at least the tosser had the decency to buy him a drink after dragging him out of bed at three in the morning.

That left Ron and Hermione. Frankly, Harry was starting to wish he had never found that damn form in the first place. Hermione was tense and quiet, and he was honestly astonished that Ron hadn’t picked up on her dark mood so far.  His best friend was still as cheerful and clueless as ever, so Harry suspected that Hermione hadn’t mentioned Brussels to him. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a very bad thing but he sure as hell wasn’t about to bring it up and find out.

All in all, Harry’s easy, quiet life had become strife with silent tension and there wasn’t much he could do about it. For once, he was actually grateful for Blaise’s sterling capacity to out-talk them all ten to one.

“All I’m say is if gay blokes start getting married, then the whole world's going to do it. See, that's how it works — they start something and six months later, everyone follows. Like manicures and gilded frames, for example. If they start tying the knot by the thousands, single life as we know it _will_ die out. The menace must be stopped, people! Just think about how the family unit will be strengthened!”

Alright, so maybe _grateful_ was a strong word.

Around their customary table at the Leaky Cauldron, those familiar with Blaise’s frequent lapses into a world of his own making remained calm and unruffled. Ron munched his way through another plate of french fries, Hermione leafed through a book and Ginny frowned as she fiddled with her mobile. Dean Thomas however, was staring at their eccentric Italian as if he’d just sprouted fangs.

“He means well,” Harry assured him. Then he paused to really think about it. “Actually, I’m not sure that’s true.”

Dean nodded politely, but he still gave Blaise another wary glance from the corner of his eye. Ginny smiled as she abandoned her phone and squeezed his arm. “Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” Dean blurted in evident relief, standing up and offering her a hand.  Ginny rolled her eyes and got back on her feet without his polite assistance.

Of course.

“We’ll see you lot around,” she said, waving a goodbye as she left. Still, those brown eyes had lingered on Harry for a second. One more small smile just for him, and then she was gone.

Harry wished he could Apparate on the spot. He felt sick to the stomach, watching Ginny with someone else. He really didn’t think he could do this. Dean was nice but he _couldn’t_ feel the way Harry did about her. How could he? It was Harry who thought about Ginny every time he found himself drifting off in the middle of a busy day. It was Harry who stopped in his tracks when she smiled at him. It was _Harry_ who couldn’t stand to see her walking away with someone else.

And yet, it was Dean who was with Ginny.

Suddenly, he wanted to be alone— alone and maudlin on his sofa in his flat, with nothing to distract him from his misery. No Ron with his wedding plans. No Hermione with Merlin-knows-what going through her head. No Blaise with his never ending diatribes on the Hot Crazy Scale. Just him. Alone.

So he bid his friends a quiet goodbye and left without any further explanation. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he hurried down the street, making his way home. They could do without him for a night. Harry had his own problems to deal with…

“Harry! Wait up!”

Harry stopped halfway down the lonely street and turned around. He had to suppress a groan as Blaise hurtled over to him. “Glad I caught you,” he started off, not even pausing to catch his breath. “So, about what we’re doing tonight — I’m not giving anything away but I promise you, it’s going to be legen-wait for it…”

“No, Blaise.” Harry cut him off before he could throw that god-awful catchphrase out again. He really didn’t want to deal with whatever Blaise had planned for tonight. No girls, no parties and _definitely_ no booze. All he wanted was to be alone for once. “Not tonight,” he added apologetically. “It’s just been...I just need to be alone, okay? We’ll go out some other time.”

“Oh.”

Harry groaned as Blaise’s face fell. Damn it. How could someone who shouldn’t be allowed to cross the threshold of a church on general principle pull off the perfect puppy eyes?

“Blaise, come on,” Harry pleaded. “I need sometime by myself. Just do me a solid here?”

Blaise considered that for a while. His dark eyes glinted with understanding and he cocked his head as he gave Harry’s request a rare moment of serious thought. Harry sighed in relief when he nodded slowly. “A solid, eh?” Blaise confirmed.

“Yes, thank you. I just…”

“Alright then. Since you asked nicely.”

Harry barely had a second to yelp in alarm as Blaise’s hand clamped around his arm. As he Apparated away to Merlin only knew where, Harry noted for a nanosecond that he was a bloody idiot for trusting a Slytherin — and _this_ particular Slytherin, for that matter.

Then he was standing on...something about a hundred meters in the air. His vision cleared and he stared down at blazing lights and roaring traffic.

Harry screamed.

 

****

 

“I hate you,” Harry hissed, his voice almost deafened by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. “I hate you, I hate you, _God_ I hate you! If there was a record of how much it’s possible to hate another human being, I would have broken it ten times over just by _thinking_ about how much I hate you!”

“Look, you can’t deny that the view is awesome.”

“The view? _The view?!_ You know what else has a brilliant view of the city? The London Eye! The nice, _slow_ London Eye with plate glass pods and general safety regulations! Have I mentioned that I hate you?”

“A couple times, yes.”

There was really no good way to phrase this.

Harry was sitting on the hour hand of Big Ben.

Let’s go over that again.

Harry was _sitting_ on the _hour_ hand of _the_ Big Ben. The giant clock tower in London? Yes, that one. Harry was currently on the face of that giant clock, sitting on — or  more accurately, perched precariously on — the _hour_ hand of the giant clock tower in the middle of London. Not _inside_ the clock where all the nice tourists go to see the big bell and _ooh_ and _aah_ at the intricate workings and get a nice view of the Westminster Palace while they’re at it. Oh no, Harry was sitting on the _outside_ , on the bleeding _hour_ hand of the actual _clock_ face as London traffic blazed below him and terrifyingly small cars flashed their miniature lights and tracked their way through the winding roads.

His only consolation was that it was exactly 3 AM so at the very least he wasn’t dead yet. One hour up or down and he would have been a smear on the side of the street.

Gods, he _hated_ Blaise. He hated Blaise and he was going to kill him.

And then he was going to die.

“Careful,” Blaise announced from his seat right next to Harry. He kicked his legs out happily, apparently very much at ease with perching on a precarious time-telling device with a hundred sodding meters of _nothing_ between him and certain death.“You really don’t want to fall from up here.”

Harry swallowed as his eyes remained glued to the traffic — an endless river of roaring cars and flashing lights.

Blaise made a valid point.

Oh Merlin. They were _sitting_ on the sodding Big Ben.

Harry suppressed a strangled whimper, dug his hands into the aforementioned hour hand (that he was fucking sitting on, he really couldn’t say that enough) and tried his hardest to contain his nausea.

No.

No!

He may be perched precariously a hundred meters in the air but he wasn’t going to throw up and give Blaise the satisfaction of...well, he didn’t really know _what_ Blaise wanted out of this yet, but he still wasn’t giving him the satisfaction!

A man had his dignity, after all.

“ _Why_ did you bring me here?” Harry demanded, as his heart rate somehow miraculously slowed back to normal. “Why in Merlin’s name would you bring _anyone_ here? And _why_ am I friends with you?”

“Will you relax?” Blaise drawled nonchalantly. “You’re not going to fall. I put a Shielding Charm up. And a Notice Me Not Charm so the nosy Muggles will stay out of our hair.”

“Of _course_ you did,” Harry snapped, not sure if he was relieved or outraged beyond belief that Blaise had actually planned this out. “Why am I not surprised? I’ll bet you do this all the time, you crazy fucking…”

“No, just the one time,” Blaise replied. “Draco and I did this right after graduation.”

Draco?

Harry stopped seething for a second as he processed that information.

Draco Malfoy?

Malfoy was _here?_

The Malfoy who provoked Buckbeak into attacking him? The Malfoy who dressed up as a Dementor to mess with Harry during a Quidditch Match? The Malfoy who had come back to Hogwarts after the war and left the country as soon as they graduated?

 _That_ Malfoy?

Yeah, okay. Harry was calling bullshit right there. “Like hell you did,” he sneered. “Malfoy would have thrown you from the sodding tower if you sprung this on him.”

“Actually, it was his idea. But you’re not all wrong — I did almost throw him off when he Apparated us here. It was a good thing he had that Shielding Charm up.”

Harry’s head was starting to spin and given his current situation, that was a decidedly bad thing. “You might want to start from the beginning,” he told Blaise.

Blaise was only too happy to oblige. “Like I said, it was right when Eighth Year ended. Now, I’m not really sure what that was like for you—  seeing that we didn’t really speak much at Hogwarts—  but things looked pretty dark for us ex-Slytherins. Honestly? I was pretty down that night. The future didn’t look so great anymore. Nobody trusted us, nobody liked us and nobody wanted us around.”

“But you weren’t even a…” Harry trailed off uncertainly. He had a feeling the phrase ‘Death Eater’ wouldn’t be very well received at the moment, especially if they were talking about Malfoy. “You were neutral during the war,” he amended.

Blaise shrugged. “Didn’t matter. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Slytherins were bad news. There was no place for us in the magical world anymore.”

“Blaise, come on. You know it’s not like that anymore…”

“May I please finish my story?”

Harry trailed off and nodded. Blaise looked like he needed to talk about this — which was weird because Blaise talked _all_ the time and he never seemed to have trouble with it. But this time, Harry thought he needed someone to listen. Besides, what else was there to do? It wasn’t like he could just walk away. So Harry sat there next to his friend on the giant clock, letting him pour his heart out.

“So there we were after graduation,” Blaise continued, looking out into the distance as he spoke. “Just me and Draco. I don’t remember what I said exactly but I think I told him that I wished we could go back to being on top of the world for just one more night. Next thing I knew, I was here screaming like a little girl and the tosser was laughing his arse off.”

“Yeah, don’t you hate it when that happens?” Harry asked dryly. Blaise chuckled and despite himself, Harry grinned too. “Did you ever ask him _why_ he tried to give you a heart attack?” he asked curiously.

Blaise grinned and shook his head. “At first I thought he was just being a wanker as per usual. But then he said something else and that...well, it stuck with me.” He was looking out at the horizon again, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “ _Look at all those people down there. Every single one of them has a story of their own. Most of them don’t even know it. You and I let others write our story, all our lives. But we’re the lucky ones because we’re holding the quill now. We get to make our own way. I’m going out there, Blaise. And I’m not coming back until I’ve got a story of my own_. That, word for word is what he said to me right here, two years ago.”

He trailed off into silence, but Harry had nothing to say. Damn. Who would have thought that Malfoy could have come up with something that profound? Brave, actually. Really? Malfoy _,_ of all people?

Seriously, you think you know a bloke…

“Where is he now?” Harry asked finally. He hadn’t really thought of Malfoy for a while. He had vanished right after Hogwarts. But now that they were talking about him, he had to admit he was curious.

Blaise shrugged. “I can’t say, really. We keep in touch but he pretty much goes where he wants. Last I heard he was in...Barcelona, I think? Brussels? I don’t know— something with a B.”

Harry considered that thoughtfully. “He sounds a bit like Ginny.”

Damn, if either one of them ever learnt that he had said that Harry, would be dead within the week. He grinned at the thought. It was still 3 AM on the dot and yet it felt like they’d been sitting here for hours. Either time really flew when one was having fun or Blaise had managed to stop Big Ben completely. Harry found he didn’t care too much. Malfoy’s words were still ringing in his head.

“It really is a gorgeous view,” he said softly. He sighed and leaned back, letting his legs dangle over the edge. The city was spread out before him in all her glory, sparkling and vibrant even at this godforsaken hour. Out in the distance, he could see the London Eye. Gods, it was beautiful. There was so much going on out there. All his problems seemed so small up here. “Is this why you brought me here?” he asked Blaise. “To tell me to write my own story?”

Blaise smirked. “Harry, do you remember what I told you the first time we met after Hogwarts?”

“How could I forget? You walked up to my table at the Leaky, sat yourself down and told me you were going to teach me how to live.” Harry chuckled and shook his head. “And then, you never left.”

“Exactly,” Blaise concurred, raising an arm in an elaborate gesture. “And this, my boy is Lesson One.”

Harry shook his head in bemusement, “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you. I’ve known you for about ten years— give or take a couple— and we’ve been friends for two of them and you still manage to surprise me. I could have gone the rest of my life thinking of you as the crazy bloke who pulls a new girl every night. Then you go and do this.”

Blaise nodded slowly. “You know, sometimes it’s not about the girls. Or the partying. Or even the suits, Merlin forgive me. Sometimes, it’s just about being _awesome_.”

Harry had to admit, he did feel pretty awesome sitting up here. The world was a brilliant place, full of life and hope and stories waiting to be written. And for one night, he was on top of it. How many people could say they had done this? This, right here was a story — and a damn good one.

And hell, if Malfoy could go ahead and write his, why shouldn’t Harry?

Yes. It was time to pick up the quill.

“I should…”

“I know. Go on, get out of here. Tell her I said hi.”

And that right there was why he was friends with Blaise. Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder—a silent _thank you_ that neither of them would ever admit to— and Apparated away.

 

****

 

A few minutes later, he was there. Harry swallowed nervously and took a few minutes to fortify himself. Now or never, he told himself firmly. With that cheerful thought, he raised his fist and knocked.

“Harry?”

Ginny blinked sleepily as she opened the door to her flat. Her hair was a mess, wayward strands tumbling down to her shoulders. Her eyes were puffy and her nightgown was all rumpled. Harry thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“It’s four in the morning,” Ginny said incredulously. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Is Dean here?” Harry demanded. That was all he really wanted to know at the moment.

“Um, he...no. No, he’s not,” Ginny replied. Her gaze skittered to the door frame and she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. She always did that when she was nervous. Harry had noticed. “He left. I don’t think that’s...well, maybe we’re better off as friends.”

“Thank Merlin,” Harry whispered. He took a step forward and his heart surged when Ginny didn’t move back. Her brown eyes were soft and questioning and they widened a fraction when he slipped an arm around her. Then he was kissing her. It was hesitant, and he wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t try to back away at first. But then her slim hand curled into his shirt and her soft lips were moving under his own. Harry’s heart surged and he deepened the kiss. She gasped into his mouth, and he abruptly decided that he would never tire of hearing that sound.

This was it. Harry smiled deep into their first kiss. It was everything he had ever hoped for. In that moment, he just knew this was it for him. There would never be anyone but Ginny.

She was The One.

“Harry…”

Her breathy whisper brought him back. Ginny removed her hands and pushed him gently, backing away a bit. “I thought we talked about this,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Harry, I can’t…”

“I know,” Harry cut her off at once. He reached out and took her hands in his own, and she let him. “I know we did, Gin. But I have something to tell you and I’d really like you to listen.”

She nodded hesitantly and squeezed his arm. “I’m here, Harry. I’m listening.”

“I don’t want this to end here,” Harry blurted. “I know we want different things and I know that...you and me...well, _us_ makes no sense at all. But I also know that I really, _really_ like you. I like spending time with you, I like being with you. And I hate seeing you with someone else. I hate it, Ginny and I don’t want to stand around and have someone else write my story for me. I don’t want to look back twenty years down the line and wonder what went wrong with us, what happened to the girl with the brown eyes. I _have_ to know, you understand?”

Ginny was staring at him now and her eyes were so wide and hopeful and questioning. Harry tightened his hold, drawing her closer. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got, Gin,” he promised. “We’ll do this whichever way you want. Just don’t walk away from me. Give us a chance, please?”

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” she asked softly. “What if we end up hating each other?”

“I could never hate you,” Harry smiled. “It’s _you._ ”

Ginny managed a choked little laugh. “I don’t think I could hate you either,” she said. Her hand crept up to trace his cheek and her lips met his in another sweet kiss. When she broke away, she was smiling.

“What?” Harry asked, stroking her cheek gently.

Ginny smiled and shook her head. “It’s just funny. Mum always said nothing good ever happens after 2 AM.”

Harry chuckled and leaned in for another kiss. “Well obviously, this is an exception.”

There was _nothing_ bad about how this night had turned out. He finally had the girl of his dreams. Harry just knew that everything was going to be alright from now on.

 

****

 

He left Ginny and Apparated outside his flat, a happy grin still firmly in place. The lights were still on.

Wait, what?

Harry frowned and opened the door. “Ron? Mione? Are you guys up?”

He skidded to a halt as he saw Ron sitting on the sofa. He looked tired and he was staring blankly at the pile of wedding invitations they’d been working on yesterday— probably fretting about the wedding, poor blighter.

Harry grinned fondly and approached him. “Mate, you’re never going to believe what happened. I’ve had the craziest night. So, Blaise…”

Ron looked up at him and Harry’s words died in his throat. Ron’s eyes were red-rimmed and his face was pale and drawn. In the decade or so that he had known the bloke, Harry had never seen him look so wretched.

“Ron,” Harry blurted, hurrying over and putting a steady hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Why are you…”

“She left.”

Harry’s world tilted off its axis. For the first time, he noticed the piece of parchment in Ron’s limp grasp. Hermione’s neat, precise writing was unmistakable.

_She left._

“What?”

Harry swallowed and took the note from Ron’s limp fingers. His throat clenched painfully as he read it.

_No. No, she couldn’t have. She said she would think about it..._

“She left, Harry,” Ron stuttered. The tears built up in his eyes, finally spilling over. “She took off. There’s not going to be a wedding and...I don’t even think she’s coming back.”

Harry struggled to find words — to offer Ron comfort or reassurance or something, but nothing came. He couldn’t believe it. Hermione was gone. She had left and just...gone.

Ron broke down sobbing. His shoulders shook violently, as he cried. It was a painful, wretched sound— like he had just lost everything worth living for. Harry felt his own eyes well up in the face of Ron’s grief and tears tracked their way down his face. There was nothing he could do here. Nothing except be here. So Harry wrapped an arm around Ron, holding his friend as he cried into his shoulder. As the night dragged on, slowly and painfully, he remembered Ginny’s words from earlier. Despite himself, a bitter smile pulled at his lips.

So Molly was right, after all.

Nothing good ever happens after 2 AM.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Oh _no_ ,” Lily whimpered, staring at Harry with wide, teary eyes. The poor thing looked absolutely devastated.

James grinned and ruffled her hair fondly. “Come on, Lil,” he cajoled, pulling his baby sister into a comforting hug. “You know that story has a happy ending. We’ve got Hugo and Rosie to prove it.”

“But it’s so sad,” Lily sniffled in his shoulder. “Poor Uncle Ron! Aunt Mione shouldn’t have left like that.”

Scorpius frowned as he considered that. Evidently, he disagreed. “I don’t know. She probably wouldn’t have been happy if she stayed. Sometimes you have to see what’s out there.”

Al shifted uncomfortably. “I’m with Lily on this. That just sounds selfish to me.”

Scorpius opened his mouth to retort but Harry raised a hand. “There’s no right or wrong here,” he said firmly. “Sometimes people have to make hard choices. Your Aunt Hermione made hers and it was tough for all of us. I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t understand why she did it at the time but when she came back, she knew what she wanted for certain. She was happier for it. And that wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t gone away in the first place.”

“So she came back?” Lily asked hopefully. “Everything was okay again?”

Harry chuckled fondly. “Of course she did, darling. You just saw her yesterday, remember?”

“I still want to hear the story,” Lily mumbled, still looking rather unconvinced. “What made her come back if she wanted to leave so badly?”

Harry leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Of course, sweetheart. We’re not done yet. So, where was I? Oh, yes. So, about three months passed since your Aunt Hermione left for Brussels. Ron was having trouble moving on, of course and things looked pretty miserable for him. But Ginny and I were...well, let’s just say things had changed for us. A lot…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 2** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“I love you,” Harry whispered as he trailed kisses down Ginny’s neck. “I love you. Merlin, I love you so...”

The rest of his ardent declarations fell to the wayside as Ginny looped her arms around him, drawing him into a long, slow kiss. Harry sighed in contentment, enjoying the comfortable sensation of her lips against his and the taste of strawberries on his tongue. Would he _ever_ get tired of this?

“You’ve made that very clear,” Ginny teased with a soft laugh. “I love you too, Harry.”

His heart surged at those simple words. It had taken three whole months of being together but somewhere in the middle of the dating and the dinners and the snogging, those three words had come about. First in hushed whispers and shy smiles— a secret just between the two of them. And then in public — an almost casual declaration of their feelings that felt so natural that they didn’t even think about it anymore.

So much had changed in these three months. His whole life had turned upside down. But with Ginny in his arms, maybe it wasn’t all bad...

“You’re thinking again,” Ginny smiled, nudging his shoulder. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Harry rested his chin on her head, stroking her hair gently. “I was just thinking about how great these last few months have been. I’m just...I’m really happy.”

“I am too,” Ginny replied. “I’ll admit I wasn’t sure we would work but...”

But they had. They were together and they loved each other and for once, Harry’s life was perfect. And he had a feeling that it would get better. Ginny had changed her mind about him, hadn’t she? She was just as happy with him as he was with her, he knew it. So maybe in due time, she would change her mind about all the other things too. Maybe, one day they could be more than just a couple. Maybe they could be married and have a family...

“And I am _never_ going anywhere with you again, you tosser!”

Ginny jumped and Harry released his hold on her as a red-faced Ron came barrelling into the flat, followed by an unrepentant Blaise.

“You were talking about sweat!” Blaise protested, holding his hands up as if pleading for divine intervention. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. “What was I supposed to do? That poor girl looked fit to bolt.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked before Ron could retaliate.

Ron turned to him, still scowling. “You know how I’m finally trying to move on after Hermione ran off and left my heart a pile of ashes scattered in the winds of despair?”

“Sure,” Harry obliged. From the corner of his eye, he caught Ginny rolling her eyes.

Ron either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He pointed accusingly at Blaise. “I was talking to a girl at the Leaky and _he_ jumped in and got her owl address! It’s the third time this week!”

“Really?” Ginny sighed and fixed Blaise with an exasperated look. “Again? Blaise, why do you insist on taking him out if you’re just going to rack-jack him?”

“It was an impulse,” Blaise protested. “I said I was sorry.”

In Harry’s humble opinion, he didn’t look very sorry at all.

“Besides, it’s a sickness,” Blaise went on airily. “If you think about it, I’m the victim here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with that little crumpet from the Leaky. Ta, children!”

“My crumpet!” Ron snapped. “You took my crumpet!”

Blaise waved him a cheerful goodbye and Disapparated with a sharp crack, right before Ron’s well aimed cushion could connect with his face. As was practice, his departure left an awkward silence among the rest of the group. Ron groaned and slumped face-down on the sofa. Harry shared a weary look with Ginny and approached, giving him a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

“Come on, Ron. Blaise is just being...well, Blaise. At least you went out, right? That’s definitely a step up.”

Ron just sighed and rolled over. “It’s not about Blaise. Honestly, I’m glad he’s around. At least if the tosser’s out chatting up every girl in the bar, I don’t have to talk to them, you know?”

Ginny shook her head. “Ron, you know that’s not healthy. No one’s asking you to move on so soon, but the least you can do is meet some new people.”

“I don’t want new people,” Ron mumbled thickly. “I want...I want Hermione.”

Harry sighed and exchanged a helpless look with his girlfriend. He had been hoping that Ron would bounce back eventually. Ron was like that, he could roll with the punches. But this time around, it just wasn’t happening. Three months later and Ron was still going through the motions with a miserable look on his face and a Hermione shaped hole in his heart. Harry was at his wits end. They had tried everything — talking, nights out at the bar, old movies. In these three months, a set of unspoken agreements had surfaced in the group. Keep Ron occupied. Do not bring up the H word. Get him through this. But it just wasn’t working. Harry was at a total loss as to what to do or say anymore. There were times when he had to physically quell the ridiculously ironic impulse to find Hermione and ask _her_ advice on how to handle this.

It was time to face facts.

She wasn’t _there_ anymore. The sooner Ron got that into his head, the better it would be. For everyone.

This time, Ginny took the lead.

“Well, I’m sorry but she isn’t here,” she told him firmly. She marched over and grabbed Ron’s shoulders, giving him a stern look. “Now you listen to me. You’re my brother and I love you but so help me Merlin, if you don’t shape up and fast, I _will_ call Mum and have her knock some sense into you. Are we clear?”

“But…”

“No. I know you’re hurting, and I’m sorry. But the truth is, Hermione made her choice and now you have the rest of your life to deal with. So I’m going to set you up with a nice girl from work. And you’re _going_ to go out with her and have a nice evening. Okay?”

“I don’t know, Gin. It’s a bit soon and I’m…”

“That’s it. I’m calling Mum.”

“No!” Ron squawked in alarm, jumping up and nearly knocking Harry over. “I’ll go, I’ll go already!”

“Brilliant,” Ginny grinned, ruffling his hair fondly. “You’re going to be okay, Ronniekins. Trust me, she’s a good one.”

Ron sighed and offered a stilted nod. “I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “Okay, what the hell? I’ll meet her.”

Harry could have cheered out loud. Instead he just smiled and squeezed Ron’s shoulder in a show of support. “Good on you, mate.”

Ron gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but at least it was something.

“I’ll set it up,” Ginny promised, hoisting her bag on one shoulder. “You take care of yourself and for the love of Morgana, take a shower. I’m going to work.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Harry offered. “I should head out too…”

“D’you both have to go?” Ron whined, looking up at them with sad, blue eyes.

Harry groaned inwardly and halted. Ron sat up hopefully, looking so much like a sad Labrador that it wasn't even funny anymore. Harry sighed in defeat. “Do you want to stay in and watch a movie again?” he asked.

Ron nodded gratefully and moved over on the sofa. “I was thinking _Forgetting Sarah Marshall_.”

Again? They’d watched it six times already. However, Harry knew better than to argue. Instead he gave Ron a bright smile and a reassuring nod before turning to Ginny. “We have _got_ to get him laid,” he muttered.

Ginny grinned and kissed his cheek. “I’m on it.”

Harry watched her retreating back until the door shut. It was either that or _Forgetting Sarah Marshall_ and Harry had had bloody enough of the latter.

 

****

 

A few hours later, Ginny was wrapping up the promised Floo call at her flat.

“Ron’s great,” she said for possibly the fourth time in ten minutes. “But you know that, of course. I keep forgetting you knew him at Hogwarts. So I’ll tell him to meet you at that new place in Diagon? This Saturday? Great, that’s great. Yes, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful. Alright, then. Bye.”

Well, that was that. Ginny picked herself off the Floor and dusted her hands off. One good deed called for glass of wine. She still had a few hours before work, despite what she’d told Harry. To tell the truth, she had just been eager to get away from Ron and his moping for a few hours. As fond as she was of her brother, he was tough to be around these days. Most of the time, she just wanted to smack him upside the head. Yes, Hermione was gone and she felt awful for him, but _three_ months? That level of dependence just couldn’t be healthy.

Thank Merlin Harry wasn’t like that. In the beginning, Ginny had had her reservations, but she had to admit things had turned out better than expected. Harry hadn’t broached the subject of a long term relationship ever since that one night and she had a feeling he was finally getting where she was coming from. Of course she loved him — she had _always_ loved him — but a girl needed excitement and adventure in her life. Maybe she could have those adventures with Harry. They could move to Tokyo or Paris…

Ginny smiled and poured herself a glass of wine. “It’ll be great,” she said happily. “We’ll travel, maybe spend a year on the road in Argentina or…”

“You’re moving to Argentina?”

Ginny shrieked in alarm and dropped the wine glass. It crashed and scattered in a hundred splintered pieces as she whirled around with wild, frantic eyes.

“Hermione?” Her voice was shrill and shaky.

Hermione dropped her bag to the floor and smiled tentatively. “Hi, Gin.”

 

****

 

**A few days later...**

 

Harry stared at his girlfriend blankly, not entirely sure that he was getting this right. “What do you mean Hermione’s back in town?”

“Exactly what I said, Harry,” Ginny mumbled, toying distractedly with her phone. It was yet another evening at the Leaky Cauldron and surprise surprise; Harry’s world had been turned upside down all over again. He was getting quite used to it. Still, thank Merlin for small mercies— at least Ron wasn’t here tonight. Apparently, he had gone out with Blaise last night and shockingly, things hadn’t ended very well. So, he was foregoing another evening out to stare blankly at the ceiling. Again.

Actually, maybe Hermione coming back wasn’t such an awful thing after all.

“So what does this mean?” Harry demanded urgently. “Is she staying? Are they getting back together? Are they still getting married? Can we burn _Forgetting Sarah Marshall_ and scatter the ashes to the wind?”

Ginny shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. All I know is that she quit her job in Brussels and she’s getting her old job at the Ministry back. She didn’t say anything except that she needed a place to stay for a while. I told her she could crash at mine and…”

“But what about Ron? And…”

“Honest, Harry. I know as much as you do.”

Harry just glared. “Seriously?” he snapped. “She shows up after three months and that’s all she has to say for herself? What is that?”

Ginny frowned. “Come on, Harry. She’s back, isn’t she? Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too hard?”

“A little too hard?! She left us! She left _Ron!_ You saw what it did to him…"

“Harry, she made a choice! She wanted to do what was right for her career. Why is that so wrong?”

“Well, it didn’t work out so great, did it? A job isn’t everything, Ginny! There are other things that matter.”

Ginny was glaring at him now. Her eyes held an unfamiliar, steely glint and she looked pretty riled up. It took a few seconds for comprehension to dawn but Harry suddenly realised that all of a sudden, they were fighting. This wasn’t about Ron and Hermione anymore.

_Oh no._

He froze as Ginny opened her mouth to retort but the Fates must have smiled on him at that very moment, because Blaise swooped in, sliding into an empty chair beside them. “You kids are _not_ going to believe how awesome last night was,” he announced smugly. “It was legen-wait for it- _dary_. Legendary!”

Harry could have kissed him.

And then Blaise started talking and he reconsidered it.

“So there I was with Weasley, and we’re trying to score him an eight, yeah? What the hell, she was a nine — I’m feeling generous. So anyway, it’s going great. She’s about to give him her Floo combination, everything’s awesome. But wait! Suddenly, Weasley gets an ‘urgent owl’ from the office and he had to take off. Long story short, we _both_ put in some long hours last night. High five!”

Ginny face-palmed. “Seriously?” she whined. “Why? _Why_ are you doing this?”

“No,” Harry moaned. “No high five! You have to stop doing that to Ron!”

Blaise waved him off. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game. If Weasley wants to be single, he has to learn the law of the jungle. I’m doing him a favour here.”

“Maybe you won’t have to for long,” Ginny muttered. Blaise raised an enquiring eyebrow in her direction and she shrugged. “Hermione’s back in town.”

Blaise’s eyes widened and his fists slammed on the table. “What?!”

“Hermione’s back,” Harry repeated. “Brussels didn’t work out and...well, that’s all we know.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” Blaise hissed. He looked like he was going to have a seizure. Harry shrugged and patted his shoulder as he continued to gape, apparently still processing this.

Now, Harry had expected any number of reactions from Blaise. He had expected him to protest, and sulk and whine about how he was the only single, awesome person left in the middle of two boring couples again...you know, normal Blaise stuff. He had _not_ expected Blaise to slump face fist on the table with an expression of absolute relief. “Oh thank god,” he whispered fervently. “Oh thank Merlin and Morgana and Circe, she’s finally _back!_ ”

Harry blinked. Wait, what? He turned to Ginny, hoping for an explanation but she was doing her own share of rapid, confused blinking. “You’re happy about this?” she asked doubtfully.

“Are you kidding?” Blaise exclaimed. “I’m thrilled! Do you know how hard it’s been stealing girls night after night from Weasley? Trying to keep him from going home with some random bint? Merlin, I’m exhausted! I have pulled muscles no man should ever pull!”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Next to him, Ginny was clearly experiencing a similar reaction.

“Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You’ve been _keeping_ him from finding someone else in the hope that Hermione would come back?”

Blaise scoffed. “Well, of course she was going to come back. What are you, thick? Those two are lost without each other! I just didn’t know when. So I had to keep Weasley from doing something stupid until she returned. And what do I get for being a good friend? Two whole months of near constant shagging!”

“My, how you’ve suffered,” Harry muttered flatly.

Blaise glowered at him. “Sometimes, a man just wants to read The Quibbler,” he stated firmly. “Tell anyone I said that and I’ll deny it. The point is I had to keep Weasley hanging until she came back. Now they can be together again and live happily ever after, and _I_ can go back to being awesome and laughing at them for being a boring, almost married couple. Everything will go back to normal.”

Harry could only stare as he came to terms with Blaise’s latest declaration. “That’s brilliant,” he said finally. He squeezed Blaise’s shoulder gratefully. “You’re a good friend.”

“And a romantic at heart,” Ginny teased.

Blaise huffed and flopped back in his seat. “Speak of this again and I’ll tell Weasley what you two got up to on his kitchen counters the other day.” He rolled his eyes as Harry and Ginny exchanged smug grins. “So, Granger’s back. What happens now?”

Harry’s smile faded. What happens now? That was the question, wasn’t it?

Honestly? He didn’t have the faintest idea.

 

****

 

The door to the flat was unlocked. For a second, Hermione hovered outside, wondering if she should knock. It only seemed proper, especially given how things had turned out the last time she was here. The memory of that night sent a pang through her heart and she renewed her resolve. She was here to set things right. She was _home._ Ron would see that she meant to stay this time, that she considered this a place she belonged. She would have to show him that. It would work out. It had to.

So she opened the door and stepped in. The comforting familiarity of the place hit her all at once, making her eyes prickle. It was all still here, like she had never left at all. The table with one too many quill scratches from months of making grocery lists, the photographs waving cheerfully at her from the walls, the ratty, old sofa holding the place of honour in the living room...

It was all here. Merlin, she had missed it.

“Harry? Is that you?”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her throat clenched painfully.

_Ron._

If someone had told her a few years ago that just hearing his voice again would make her want to break down and cry with relief, she would have laughed in their face. Not her. Never her. She was Hermione Jean Granger. She was the smart one, the sensible one. She would never be thegirl who broke down sobbing at the mere thought of seeing Ron again. 

She had never been so wrong in her life.

“Blaise? If that’s you, get out of here right now,” Ron went on, entering the room. He didn’t have a shirt on and he was still occupied with towelling his wet hair off. He hadn’t even noticed her yet. “Seriously, I’m still pissed with you about last night. Does the word ‘dibs’ mean nothing to you? You…”

Hermione couldn’t help the strangled sob that left her throat.

Ron’s head snapped up. He froze. His eyes widened and he dropped the towel.

“Mione,” he whispered.

And cool, collected, always logical Hermione promptly forgot herself and ran straight into his arms. Ron staggered as she connected with him, stumbling on the sofa with her in tow. She didn’t care. He was _here._ He was still here and he was the same and she had come so close to losing him without even realising it...Hermione tightened her hold and buried her face in his chest, still bawling her eyes out like a four year old.

“Shh,” Ron whispered, once he had a handle on the situation. Strong, hesitant arms crept up to hold her carefully, cradling her against his broad chest. “Calm down, Mione. It’s okay, yeah? Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”

He held her until the tears stopped, whispering gentle reassurances and stroking her tangled hair. When she finally disentangled herself, she was blushing scarlet and puffy eyed. God, she probably looked awful…

“Here, have a seat,” Ron said finally, prying her off gently and depositing her on the sofa. “I’ll get you some water.” His eyes lingered on her a second too long, but then he cleared his throat and headed off to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, neither had broken the silence. Hermione sipped at her water while Ron sat at the other end of the sofa, fiddling awkwardly with the towel.

“How was Brussels?”

His question broke the silence, startling her. She tucked a brown curl behind her ear, trying to calm her frazzled nerves a bit. “The project was brilliant,” she murmured. “I learned a lot.”

Ron’s mouth twisted slightly. “You always were one for learning, Mione.”

“It was everything I imagined,” she replied softly. “And...and it was all wrong.”

He looked at her again and the sight of those earnest blue eyes made her want to break down and cry again. She reached out for his hand, cradling it in her fingers. “I hated everything about it.” The words were spilling now, urgent and frantic. She had to make him understand. “It was brilliant and rewarding and the perfect step for my career and all I could think about was how much I’d given up for it. How much I missed you, how much I missed _us_. It just wasn’t worth it. Not one little bit.”

Ron said nothing for a while. “What does that mean?” he asked finally.

“It means exactly what I said,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

“Yeah?” Ron laughed shakily and got up, pacing the length of the room. “Call me crazy, Mione but that’s not what past experience tells me. You said you’d marry me, remember? You said you’d be with me and...and we’d have a life together. And then you went away. You left.”

“It was a mistake, Ron,” she insisted desperately. “I made a mistake, okay? I came back to...to tell you that I need you and I love you and I was us to be together. I want _us_ back! Can’t we...can’t we just go back to the way things were?”

The question hung in the silence.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Ron said softly. Hermione’s heart surged with hope as he sat next to her again and took her hand.

“Do you remember what you said when you left?” he asked.

“I…”

“You said you needed to find yourself. I didn’t understand what you meant then. Maybe I still don’t. But...I think you were right. I was in your way and you were in mine.”

“Ron, no! That’s not true. It’s not...”

“It is,” Ron cut in. He was talking over her protests now, seemingly determined to get the words out before he could reconsider. “The truth is, I was scared when you left. I was scared that I would never be happy again, that you’d taken a part of me with you. I can’t...I can’t be scared anymore, Mione. I want to be okay again. I want to know I can make it if you’re not there someday.”

“But you don’t have to,” she said fervently. Her hands tightened around his, the grip almost painful. “Don’t you see? We’ll be together again, Ron.”

“And if you leave again?” he asked. “What am I going to do then? No Mione, I’m sorry. I just...I can’t be this way anymore. I guess I need to find myself too.”

His hand slipped out of hers, gently but firmly.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. The words seemed to be tearing him up inside, but he said it anyway. “I’m really sorry, Mione. But we’re done. It’s over.”

 

****

 

A few hours later, Hermione had left for Ginny’s place in tears, but Ron’s flat was far from empty.

“No!” Ginny shrieked indignantly. She reached over the table to whack her idiot brother on the head. Ron yelped painfully and rubbed his head, but it really didn’t do much to appease her. “Bad Ron! Bad! Shame on you!”

“Oh, stop it,” Blaise chided. “He’s not a dog.” That being said, he deftly rolled up his latest issue of the Quibbler and smacked Ron in the face with it.

“For Merlin’s sake!” Ron yelped, rubbing his nose and scowling at them. “Will you lot _stop_ that?”

Harry just scrubbed at his hair, looking tired and bewildered. “Why would you do something like this?” he asked helplessly. “Seriously, I can’t even… just _why?_ ”

Ron shrugged and flicked his wand, Banishing the plates to the kitchen. “It was the right thing to do,” he said firmly. “We’re just not good for each other.”

Blaise stared at him flatly for all of three minutes. Finally, he shook his head and got up. “That’s it. I’m out. If I stay here any longer, I might strangle him and my lawyer says I can’t do that anymore.”

Ginny shook her head in exasperation as he Disapparated without another word. “I just don’t understand,” she insisted. “You’ve been pining for three months. She comes back and you blow it. Merlin, Ron! Pick a side, will you?”

Ron huffed. “You know, of all people I expect _you_ to understand,” he informed her. “You’re the one who goes on and on about independence and all that. I have to learn to get along without her. We talked about it and...well, she agrees.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Harry protested. “You’re both miserable, and it’s so bloody awkward. I mean, look at us. We’re all here at the flat and Hermione’s living with Ginny and...and this is so _stupid!_  Explain to me how we’re supposed to hang out together if you can’t even be in the same room as each other?”

 _Why_ couldn’t the world just make sense again?

But Ron was adamant. He just dusted his hands off and turned to them with a too bright smile. “It’s fine, I promise,” he insisted. “Hermione and I both agreed that it’s for the best. We’re still friends and nothing is going to change with the group.”

“But…” Ginny began.

She trailed off as Ron shook his head firmly. “Guys, it’s over. Things happen. We’re just trying to get along and it would be brilliant if we could have out friends and family supporting us through it. Trust me, you’ll see. We’re even having lunch at the Burrow tomorrow, just like every Sunday— all of us! It’ll be fine. It’ll be just...you know, fine.”

With that he headed for the kitchen, whistling an inappropriately bright and cheery tune and leaving Harry and Ginny to stare helplessly after him.

 

****

**Sunday, at the Burrow...**

 

“This is _not_ fine,” Blaise mumbled belligerently. “This is the exact opposite of fine. This isn’t even on the same continent as fine. You know where fine is? Not here, that’s where fine is…”

“Blaise, keep it down,” Harry groaned, elbowing him in the ribs. “I’ve got my own stuff to deal with, okay?” Across the small living room of the Burrow, he caught Charlie’s eye again and cringed as the older man cracked his knuckles.

Blaise cocked his head at the display and frowned. “I thought they liked you here,” he commented. Charlie narrowed his eyes and Blaise favoured him with a bright grin and a thumbs up as Harry fiddled uncomfortably with his collar.

“They do,” he mumbled. “But you try being the bloke dating a girl with seven older brothers. I’m surprised I haven’t been given the Shovel Talk three times over.” It was true. Three months ago, he had been greeted with high fives and thumping on the back and shouted requests for a quick game of Quidditch. Now, it seemed like he had a giant, red bulls-eye tacked to his back. Hopefully, this whole over-protective big brother thing would blow over soon.

“Ooh, the Shovel Talk.” George halted in his tracks and nodded decisively. “Thanks for reminding me, Harry. We’ll see you outside in ten.”

Then again, maybe not.

Blaise snickered as Harry groaned and George sauntered off whistling. “Hey, look on the bright side,” Blaise said, clapping his shoulder. “At least you’re doing better than Granger.”

Harry’s eyes travelled to a whole new section of the Burrow— and really, it still amazed how such a small house could accommodate these many people— to where Molly was busy fussing over Hermione.

“And you’re quite sure you’re alright, dear?” Molly asked again. “I know it’s been a rough time and all and you say you’re doing fine, but are you? Are you, _really?_ ”

Even from this distance, Harry could see Hermione’s smile waver just a bit.

“I promise I’m doing just fine, Molly,” she replied politely. “It’s good of you to have me over after...well, everything." 

“Nonsense, dear! You’re still family. Even if you _did_ break my little boy’s heart and left him in the dust like an old toy that lost its string...”

“Hermione, _there_ you are!” Ginny chirped as she barrelled out of nowhere. She grabbed hold of Hermione’s arm decisively and led her to safety. “Mind if I borrow her for a second, Mum? 'Kay, thanks, bye!”

Harry heaved a sigh of relief as Ginny shepherded Hermione over to them. Seriously, that girl was a godsend. Worth the Shovel Talk ten times over.

“And that’s why you _never_ let Mum corner you on the way to the loo,” she told Hermione.

“It’s fine, Gin,” Hermione replied with another tight smile. Harry was getting really tired of that word. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to him and Blaise, quirking an eyebrow as she took in their miserable expressions. “And what’s got your wand in a knot?”

“Your brothers,” Harry replied promptly. “I’m seriously concerned that that _having my wand in a knot_ is going to have a very literal connotation once this is over.”

Ginny grinned and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about the boys. I can handle them. Mum’s the real problem.”

“You don’t say?” Hermione retorted dryly.

“Just make sure you don’t get cornered again,” Ginny told her firmly. “And Harry, try not to sit next to me during lunch. It’ll just encourage Mum to break out the _when are you making it official_ questions. I really don’t need another marriage lecture this week.”

Harry plastered on a cheerful smile and nodded, trying to ignore the slight bristle of irritation. Really? Now he couldn’t even sit next to his girlfriend for fear of the dreaded M word?

“But I wouldn’t worry much,” Ginny went on blithely. “She’ll probably have her eyes on Ron and his date so…”

“Wait,” Hermione cut in.

Ginny trailed off as the silence descended— a very ominous, utterly stifling silence. Harry stared at her in sheer dumbfounded horror. He had misheard. He must have. There was no possible way she had just said that...

“Ron’s bringing a date?” Hermione had started wringing her hands. Her voice was distinctly shrill and off kilter. “Here? _Now?_ ”

Ginny’s eyes widened in the wake of her massive  _faux pas_. “The girl I set him up with when you were away,” she managed. “Didn’t I tell you? Oh gods, tell me I told you!”

“You didn’t tell me,” Hermione replied blankly.

“Well, this is awkward,” Blaise put in helpfully.

Ginny was too horrified to bother with him. “Mione, I’m so sorry! It was when you were in Brussels and Ron was so miserable and I can’t believe I didn’t tell you! I’m…”

“Ginny, calm down,” Hermione soothed, patting her shoulder. “Ron and I are over, remember? He can date whoever he likes. Like I said, we’re…”

“Fine,” Harry muttered. “Yes, you mentioned that.”

Ginny still looked unsure. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked Hermione. “I mean, they’ll be here any second so if you want to bail I totally understand.”

“Ginny, it’s fi— it’s okay,” Hermione insisted. “Ron and I were always friends first. I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice girl and…”

She was interrupted as the door suddenly swung open.

“Hey, you lot!” Ron announced cheerily. “Not too late, are we?”

Blaise waved, Ginny smiled shakily and Harry swallowed.

_Oh, this was going to be so awful._

Ron just grinned and hugged his mother, clapped Charlie and George on the back and accepted a bear hug from Bill. “I brought a guest over, Mum,” he said to Molly. “That’s okay, right?”

“The more the merrier, dear,” Molly replied happily, bustling over to fuss with his robes. “And where is this _charming_ young lady?” Harry could have sworn she shot Hermione a particularly smug look as she said it.

_So, so awful._

The girl stepped out from the shadows, and smiled pleasantly at the assembled company. Harry staggered in shock as he recognized her. Blaise choked on a sip of butterbeer and Hermione mumbled something that sounded a lot like _oh, **hell** no._

“It’s _so_ nice to finally meet you all,” Ron’s date spoke up, flicking her long blonde hair back. Her eyes drifted to Hermione for a second and that pearly smile widened just a fraction. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Hermione’s fists clenched. He turned to make sure she didn’t have a wand out but her expression was enough to make his insiders shrivel up a bit.

Oh, she looked _murderous_.

Harry swallowed audibly and pulled Ginny over. “What have you _done?_ ” he hissed at her.

“Why?” she whispered back. “What’s wrong with Lavender?”

 

**** 

**A few days later, at the Leaky Cauldron...**

 

“Crazy eyes,” Blaise announced decisively. His declaration elicited no further enquiries so naturally he took it as an invitation to continue. “Crazy Eyes is a well documented condition among the eighteen to twenty five year old female demographic— an indicator of future mental illness, if you will. Trust me Weasley, that bird is going to fly the coop. I mean sure, she’s hot now with the shiny hair and the blue eyes and a rack like…”

Hermione stabbed a potato with a fork.

“Blaise, you should stop talking now,” Ginny advised, edging away from Hermione just a bit.

Ron however, spoke up. “Lavender does not have the Crazy Eyes,” he announced firmly. “She’s a nice girl and we hit it off and everything’s great.”

Another potato met an untimely demise at Hermione’s hands. Harry winced and followed Ginny’s example. Someone had to talk some sense into Ron before he ended up on the business end of Hermione’s wrath. “Look, I know you two dated for a while in school but, how much do you know about her? How much do _any_ of us know about her?”

“Oh, I think he knows enough,” Hermione piped up, smiling pleasantly. The glint in her eyes however, spoke of rage and destruction. “We know she’s high maintenance and uses far too many hair potions. Her favourite place in the whole wide world is Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop because it’s just _so_ romantic. Oh, and she’s put on a few pounds since school. It must be all those visits to Madame sodding _Puddifoot’s_.”

The rest of the table stared as she went back to her steak. Ron blinked and Ginny cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“It’s nice that we can still hang out together without it being all awkward,” Blaise commented flatly. Harry kicked him under the table for good measure.

“Okay, fine,” Ron admitted. “So we’ve only been out a few times since the Burrow and maybe I don’t know much about what she’s been up to since school but that does not mean she has the Crazy Eyes.”

“You just can’t see it because you’ve been afflicted with Haven’t Been Laid in a While Blindness,” Blaise drawled. Ginny stifled a giggle and Hermione coughed delicately, hiding a smirk behind her hand.

“For the love of Godric!” Ron snapped, apparently exasperated. “Harry, please tell me you’re with me on this. You don’t think Lavender’s mental, right?”

“Oh sure, drag Harry into this,” Hermione belted back. “Wouldn’t want to change a thing from the _last_ time you were dating her, would we?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron demanded, turning on her.

“Oh come on, Ron!” she hissed, elbowing Ginny out of her way to lean forward on the table. “Lavender Brown? You can’t be serious! She’s a feather headed bird brain…”

“Is it just me or is the phrase ' _feather_ headed _bird_ brain' a bit redundant?” Blaise whispered to Harry. Harry didn’t even bother to kick him this time. It was all going to hell anyway.

“...and she made you miserable!” Hermione finished, waving an agitated hand about. “Don’t you remember anything from Hogwarts? Tell me _Won Won,_ is that the kind of girl you want to be dating? Is that...”

“Well see, here’s the thing Hermione,” Ron snapped, standing up too. “I figure it’s a step up from the kind of girl who runs away to Brussels and leaves me a sobbing mess, and then falls back into my life without so much as an apology! It just seems to me that _Lavender_ might actually have half a chance of, oh I don’t know, caring about me?”

“I did apologise, you arse!” Hermione shrilled. “I apologised a hundred times and…”

“Well, maybe it’s a little too late for that!” Ron spat back.

“Well, maybe it is!”

“Brilliant! Because I’m going out with Lavender tomorrow. **Again!** ”

“Fan-bloody-tastic! Have a great night! Just make sure you use small words!”

“Fine! I will!”

Harry was shoved face first in the table as Ron barrelled past him, storming out of the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione huffed and took off in the opposite direction.

“Well, that went well,” Ginny sighed.

“Just peachy,” Harry muttered.

“Not awkward at all,” Blaise put in. “Ooh, look! Pretty girl at three o’clock!!”

Harry shook his head as he all but clambered over the table for a better look.

Why? _Why_ couldn’t the world just make sense again?

 

****

 

Later that night, Ron found himself walking Lavender home from Diagon Alley. By all accounts, their third date was a rousing success.

“I’m glad you decided to call me again,” she chirped, slipping her hand in his as they walked down the street. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“I did too,” Ron replied with a strained smile. It had been a nice night, really. Dinner and dancing, you just couldn’t beat the classics. Lavender was nice and pretty and she laughed at all his jokes. It wasn’t her fault that Ron was distracted and out of sorts. It wasn’t her fault that her eyes were baby blue instead of the warm shade of brown he preferred. That she didn’t feel _right_ in his arms and she didn’t huff in fond exasperation when he stepped on her toes. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t bossy and brilliant and wonderful.

As much as he wanted to pretend that things were fine _,_ the truth was that...that Hermione was still on his mind and he missed her. Gods, he missed her so much.

“It’s like nothing had changed,” Lavender went on happily. “Remember how much fun we had back in Sixth Year? Really, why did we ever stop seeing each other?”

He knew the answer to that all too well. Ron sighed and halted in the street, taking her hand. “Lavender,” he began uncertainly. “I had a great time tonight. Really, it was fantastic. You’re nice and we have fun and...you’re just really great. But I have to be honest with you. This isn’t going to go anywhere.”

Her eyes widened and Ron winced with guilt. “I’m just...I don’t want to lead you on,” he insisted desperately. “The truth is, I think I’m still a bit in love with my ex. I think I always will be and I’m just so sorry. Please tell me you understand?”

She was going to cry. Her eyes were wet and her lip was trembling and Merlin, Ron was a _horrible_ person for doing this. But then she gave him a watery smile and squeezed his hand. “I understand,” she murmured. “You and Hermione — well, you have a real history together, don’t you? I doubt that I’d be able to compete with that. It’s okay, Ron. Sometimes, it’s not meant to be.”

She looped her arms around him and gave him a warm hug. Ron grinned in relief and patted her back gently. “Thank you for being so understanding,” he said fervently. “And again, I’m really sorry. No hard feelings, right?”

“None whatsoever,” she promised. “But, if it’s not too much trouble do you think I could come up to your flat and use your Floo? I just don’t want to walk back alone. It’s late and...”

“Of course,” Ron agreed at once. “Harry’s out for the night and the place is empty. It’s no bother.”

She squeezed his hand again and he led her up to the flat. Such a nice, reasonable girl, he thought to himself. Honestly, what were his friends _thinking_ saying she had the Crazy Eyes or whatever? He opened the door and let her into the house.

“All yours,” he announced, gesturing to the Floo. “Just take whatever you need, yeah?”

Lavender waited until his back was turned before slipping a small vial out of her purse. Her eyes glinted and her lips stretched in a feline smile.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she purred as her wand slipped into her palm. “I plan to.”

 

****

**Meanwhile, at Ginny’s flat...**

 

“I told you she had the Crazy Eyes!”

Harry jumped and released Ginny abruptly, toppling her off the sofa in the process. The next second, the door burst open. Blaise blinked as if a bit surprised at his own fervour, and then he promptly barged in.

“Where’s Granger?” he demanded, looking around frantically. “I thought she was living here.”

“She went out,” Ginny grumbled, getting off the floor gingerly. “Some people have the basic courtesy not to interrupt _other_ people’s date night, you see…”

“Yes, yes,” Blaise cut in, waving her off. “You’re in love, it’s adorable, I give it two more weeks tops, etcetera etcetera. Now cut the jibber jabber, I need to show you lot something.”

He pulled a vial from his pocket and tossed it at Harry.

“Amortentia?” Harry read with a frown. “Why do you have Love Po...”

He trailed off and his eyes widened in horror as realisation dawned. Horrible, ominous realisation.

Blaise had Love Potions.

 _Blaise_ had _Love_ Potions.

Oh _shite._

“Blaise,” Harry managed, trying to keep the completely justified note of panic out of his voice. “Please tell me I won’t have to arrest you for coercion.”

Blaise blinked in confusion, before letting his brow arch in an indignant scowl. “It’s not mine!” he snapped. “I don’t use Love Potions on women, you berk! That’s disgusting. And I’m insulted!”

“Then where did you get this?” Harry demanded, waving the vial in his face. “These are illegal! And dangerous! Do you have any idea what one drop can do to a person?”

“I do,” Blaise replied with a grim nod. “Apparently, so does Lavender Brown. I found that at her flat.”

Oh, Gods.

Harry flopped down on the sofa. His head was spinning. He was vaguely aware of Ginny mumbling _oh Merlin, this is bad_ next to him. Based on the evidence, he was inclined to agree.

“Start from the beginning,” he ordered Blaise.

“Well— as I told you lot right at the beginning— Brown had an obvious case of the Crazy Eyes. I knew something was going to go down soon, I just wasn’t sure when or how. So I decided to collect some evidence. Her flat was the logical place to start so I snuck in when she was out…”

“You broke into someone’s home?” Ginny groaned, holding her head in her hands. “Blaise, that’s breaking and entering! Harry _is_ going to have to arrest you and…”

Blaise waved her off. “I got a permit from the DMLE,” he replied, tossing an official Ministry document on to Harry’s lap. “We work with them sometimes on...delicate matters. My good friend, Head Auror McIntosh was very cooperative and...”

“My boss is your good friend?” Harry murmured faintly. How could he not have known this? Then again, it was Blaise. Now that Harry thought about it there was one question he had never thought to ask Blaise. “What exactly do you do for a living?”

“Please,” Blaise scoffed. “Focus, kids. I’m not done. So, I broke into Brown’s flat and found a freshly brewed cauldron chock full of that stuff.  I nicked a vial and got back here as fast as I could. Please tell me you see where I’m going with this.”

They did. Oh, they did.

“She’s going to dose Ron!” Harry cursed a blue streak and whipped out his wand, heading for the door on the double.

“I set my brother up with a psychopath!” Ginny groaned, following him.

“I’m a genius!” Blaise announced cheerfully. “I did _so_ tell you she had the Crazy Eyes! Who’s the man? Blaise is the man, that’s who...”

**“Blaise!”**

“Oh, right. Saving Weasley’s virtue. That’s important too.”

Harry shook his head and grabbed Ginny’s hand, Disapparating at once and trusting Blaise to follow. He had no idea what he was going to find back at his flat, but for Ron’s sake he hoped it wasn’t too late.

 

****

 

Harry nearly tripped over Ginny as they Apparated outside the flat. Ginny squeaked in indignation and shoved him aside as she made a run for the door. Blaise ambled behind them nonchalantly, poking at his phone— presumably checking his Facebook updates or something.

“Why are we out here? You should have Apparated us inside!” Ginny snapped as she tried to wrench the door open. “And it’s locked!”

“Stupid wards,” Harry muttered, whipping out his wand. “Stand back, yeah? This could get rough.”

Ginny scrambled out of his way as he fired a Blasting Hex. Fortunately, the door didn’t quite explode although it did fly off its hinges. Harry winced at the crash and his grip tightened on his wand. He didn’t know how dangerous Lavender was, but she sure as hell wasn’t getting her hands on Ron.

The dust cleared as they entered cautiously, wands out and ready.

“Ron! Ron, where are you?”

“Lavender, I’m warning you! I know a mean Bat Bogey Hex and I’m not afraid to use it!”

“Ooh look, I just hit a hundred followers on my blog.”

 **“Blaise!** Will you _please_ just...”

“Harry?”

Ron’s voice brought the chaos to a screeching halt. Harry whirled around. Ron surfaced from behind the sofa, wide eyed and pale and shaky. 

“Ron?” Ginny’s voice was cautious. She approached slowly and extended a hand, intending to check him over. “Are you alright?”

Ron nodded dazedly. “More than alright,” he whispered. He smiled dreamily at her. “I’m in love.”

Harry’s heart plummeted at those words. They were too late. Damn it, this was all his fault! If he hadn’t been so caught up with Ginny, he would have been here and maybe he could have stopped this.

“Ron, listen to me,” he pleaded, approaching his befuddled friend. “You’ve been dosed with Amortentia. Remember that shite from Sixth Year? Romilda Vane? You need to focus, okay? You’re _not_ in love with Lavender. We’re taking you to St Mungos right now and…”

“I’m not talking about Lavender.”

Harry shut up abruptly. Ron grinned and clapped his shoulder.

_What?_

“What?” Harry blurted. “But she dosed you with…”

“No, she didn’t.”

Harry’s eyes widened as Hermione stepped out from behind Ron, and dusted her hands off. “But not for lack of trying,” she finished disapprovingly. “Really Ron, I did warn you…”

Ron smiled and wrapped an arm around her. “I should have listened. You were right. You’re always right.”

Harry’s jaw dropped a few more inches, and he was vaguely aware that Ginny was gaping and even Blaise had abandoned his phone for a minute. Ron and Hermione just stood there side by side, looking far too pleased with themselves.

And then it hit him. They were together. In the same room. And they weren’t fighting. But what about...

“Where’s Lavender?” he asked, half expecting her to jump out from somewhere.

“Somewhere in Nova Scotia,” Hermione replied, looking simultaneously embarrassed and smug about it. “I wasn’t very picky with the Banishing Charms. I just wanted her as far away from Ron as possible.”

Harry’s head was starting to hurt. “Could someone please start from the beginning? What is Hermione even doing here?”

“Well,” Hermione began hesitantly. “After yesterday’s blowout at the Leaky Cauldron, it was clear to me that Ron wasn’t going to listen to reason. I still didn’t trust Lavender— and with _good_ reason— but Ron was clearly going to see her again. So, when he was leaving after that little argument with me, I...sort of...I might have putatrackingspellonhim.”

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” Ginny blurted.

Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms defensively. “I put a Tracking Spell on Ron _for_ his own protection.”

Blaise emitted a low whistle. “Granger, I’m impressed,” he drawled. “That is completely insane.”

“Oh, perfect,” Harry groaned. “Am I going to have to arrest her? Please tell me I don’t have to arrest her…”

“Nope,” Ron grinned. “I’m obviously not pressing charges and Lavender...well, she’s hardly in a position to take the moral high ground, don’t you think?”

“Don’t interrupt, Weasley,” Blaise admonished, waving him off. “I just know this is going to get better. Granger, do continue. So you took a little trip on the Loony Express, got off at Stalker Town, and then…?”

“I _had_ to!” Hermione snapped. “She was clearly up to something and I was _worried_. And then the spell went off and when I tracked Ron down here, he was tied to a chair, screaming bloody murder and that crazy harpy was trying to dose him with Love Potions! So I...well, I reacted.”

“By _reacted_ , she means she tackled Lavender to the ground,” Ron put in smugly. Blaise snickered and high-fived him. Hermione scowled but Ron just grinned. Now, that Harry thought about it, Hermione’s knuckles did seem a bit bruised.

“You lot should have been here,” Ron went on. He looked delighted. “It was magnificent. Lavender didn’t stand a chance. And then…"

“And then I Banished her,” Hermione cut in firmly.

“Oh no no _no_.” Seriously, Ron looked positively gleeful. “First you punched her in the nose, then you said— and I quote, _‘He’s mine, bitch’_ — and _then_ you Banished her.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “Tell me that didn’t happen,” he pleaded with Hermione. “Tell me you didn’t put a borderline legal Tracking Spell on Ron, you didn’t stalk and then subsequently attack his date and that you didn’t send her halfway across the world.”

“She can Portkey herself back just fine,” Hermione protested defensively. She crossed her arms and scowled. “And when you say it like that, I just sound mental!”

“You _are_ mental,” Ron grinned, wrapping an arm around her again. “Absolutely, one hundred percent barking mad.”

Hermione glared at him and tried to squirm out of his grip. “See if I do _you_ any favours again. Just you ask, Ronald Bilius Weas...”

“Apparently, I don’t have to,” Ron replied, pulling her close again. “You’re looking out for me anyway. Even when we’re not together, even when we’re not speaking to each other— you’re still there.”

Hermione trailed off and stopped struggling. “Of course I am,” she murmured. “I care about you, Ron. I always will. Even if...even if we’re not together anymore, you’ll still always be my best friend.”

“Oh, don’t I feel special,” Harry grumbled. Ginny laughed and patted his shoulder.

“Could everyone please just let us have our moment?” Ron snapped. He ignored the round of snickering his enquiry elicited and turned back to Hermione. His eyes softened as he regarded her. Hermione smiled back, her gaze hesitant but hopeful.

“You know,” Ron began. “For the smartest girl I’ve ever known, you really are quite mental. This stunt you pulled today? It’s not even in the top five. You’re the girl who took on a troll in the bathroom with us. And you set up that barmy society for house elves. And…”

“She went back in time with me to save Buckbeak,” Harry contributed.

“Her boggart was McGonagall telling her she failed every class,” Ginny added, trying to force down a giggle.

“Oh, and there was that time she punched Malfoy in the face,” Harry added.

Blaise stared blankly at them. “I think I need to re-evaluate how I go about selecting my friends,” he muttered, edging away from Hermione just a bit.

Hermione suppressed a smile and smacked Ron’s arm. “Look what you started. I don’t suppose you have a point to make?”

Ron cradled her face in his hands. “You’re absolutely mental. You have _the_ craziest Crazy Eyes of any girl I’ve ever known and I am hopelessly in love with you.”

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered. “You’re everything I want, Ron. That’s never going to change. I know that now and...and I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Mione. And I swear if you don’t tell me we can be together and live happily ever after, I’m going to lose it.”

Hermione laughed and leaned in. “Try and stop me,” she whispered as she kissed him.

They remained there, wrapped up in each other until the applause and cheering died down. Harry grinned and wrapped his arms around Ginny. She leaned into him and his smile widened. It was all right. After all the madness, everything was finally all right.

“Now there’s a happily ever after,” Ginny murmured softly.

“Maybe we’ll get there someday,” Harry whispered back, holding her close.

She lifted her head and smiled at him, brown eyes glinting in the light. “Maybe.”

“So that’s it then?” Blaise demanded petulantly. He looked rather sulky, all of a sudden. “I’m stuck between two boring couples again and no one to share my awesomeness with? Again?”

“Pretty much,” Harry conceded apologetically.

“Wonderful,” Blaise drawled. “A dream come true, really. Can we at least go back to the bar?”

Harry laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Where else?”

After all, if any day called for a round of Ogden’s Finest, this was it. A celebration was definitely in order.

 

****

 

An hour later, at the Leaky Cauldron, that’s exactly what they did.

“A toast!” Harry announced, raising his glass. “To Ron and Mione finally seeing sense.”

“And to Lavender for making it happen!” Ginny added.

“To Lavender!” the group chorused, before bursting into laughter. They clinked glasses and downed their drinks, and Harry smiled and joked and laughed with his friends. All his friends.

“Guys,” Blaise announced solemnly, as the din died down. “I’ve decided to seduce Lavender Brown.”

_And here we go again._

“Bad idea,” Ginny declared.

“Awful idea,” Harry agreed.

“Not to mention impossible,” Hermione added. “Unless you plan to Portkey halfway across the world for a roll in the…”

“Challenge accepted!” Blaise declared. “To the International Portkey Office!” And with that ominous declaration he was gone, Disapparating with a crack.

“Honestly,” Hermione huffed, scowling at the now Blaise free spot at the table. “Did I say ‘challenge issued’? Did I say ‘challenge’ at all?”

“I’ve learnt not to question what goes on in Blaise’s head,” Harry grinned. “It’s probably for the best. Besides, he’ll be back soon enough.”

“In the meantime, I guess it’s just us boring old couples,” Ginny replied. She smiled and squeezed Harry’s hand. Harry’s heart clenched at the simple gesture.

“And we’re right back to where we started,” Hermione added with a laugh. “It’s hard to believe so much happened in the last few months, isn’t it?”

“Something always happens,” Harry retorted. “It’s us _._ ”

Hermione shook her head in amusement. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever bothered moving to another country for a change. Every day is an adventure with you lot.”

That brought another round of cheers and toasts. Only Ron remained thoughtfully silent through the chatter. “You know, we never really got down to discussing it,” he spoke up suddenly. “Mione, why _did_ you decide to come back? Don’t get me wrong — I wouldn’t want it any other way — but I still wonder. What made you come back in such a rush?”

Hermione’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh, yes. I suppose we didn’t...um, discuss it.” She shifted in her seat and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

Harry leaned forward, suddenly interested. “So what was it?” he asked, when Hermione hesitated.

“Well…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Hermione’s flashback: Brussels** ~*~*~*~*~

 

  _She left the office in a hurry that day, eager to avoid the evening rush. Brussels was hardly what she would call ‘crowded’ for a city_ — _she had survived London, after all_ — _but for some reason, the Floo lines and Apparition points were always busy when she needed them the most._

_The Ministry of Educational Affairs was a lot more streamlined than her old place of work. The hours she kept were absolutely mad. On the rare occasion when she left before nine, she found herself curled up on the sofa in her dingy little flat, reading a well thumbed normal or staring out the window at nothing in particular._

_Alone. Always alone._

_Sometimes she wondered where Ron was at that very moment. With Harry and Ginny at the Leaky, probably. Blaise would be trying to pick up some girl and Harry and Ron would be making bets on how long it would take for him to get a drink thrown in his face while Ginny shouted out unhelpful suggestions from the table._

_The thought wrenched a small, shaky laugh from her lips and she shook it away resolutely, heading for the Floo. It was barely after four, but she couldn’t concentrate on the latest budget directives for the European Magical Education Commission. The stale air of the office cubicle was suffocating and she needed to leave. Now._

_By the time she reached the Floo, she knew it was too late. The lines were much too long. It would take hours before the queues cleared up. Witches and wizards jostled each other and chatted cheerfully in French as they waited their turns to go home. Home. To their families and friends._

_Hermione sighed and hefted her purse on her shoulder._

_Plan B then._

_She would never understand why the nearest exit was located right next to Brussels’ most famous attraction. At least the Ministry in England had had the good sense to use an innocuous phone booth. But then again, the tourists swarming Mannekin Pis never seemed to notice that people were emerging from a staircase right out of the ground. So she flicked her wrist, tapped her wand and cast the spell, revealing the narrow little staircase making its way up to civilisation._

_The cold air hit her as soon as she was out and she shivered and pulled her coat around her shoulders. The crowd of tourists didn’t even bat an eye as she walked out of a hole in the ground. They just chattered happily and clicked pictures of the statue. Hermione elbowed her way through the crowd, trying to find a way out of the melee. A snowflake settled on her cheek and she blinked in surprise, batting it away. It was a touch early for snowfall. Had time gone by so soon?_

_She remembered the snow back home. Snowball fights with Harry, curling by the fireplace with Ron, Christmas mornings with Mum and Dad…_

_And now she was alone, in a strange city, going back to an flat she hated, with no one to talk to and she hated that everyone spoke French and **why** did they all have those bloody bicycles and…_

_...and she burst into tears._

_One minute she was fine, and the next it all came crashing down. The tears flowed freely and Hermione collapsed on a bench, ignoring the perplexed, alarmed looks of people passing by. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything that did matter was back at home and she had left it. She had left Ron. How could she have been so **stupid?** He had probably forgotten her and moved on. He was probably perfectly happy while she broke down in the street like a sodding crazy person. And the worst of it was that it was all her fault and she just couldn’t stop crying and…_

_“Granger?”_

_At first, she either didn’t hear the voice. That was how hard she was crying. All she could think about was Ron and how desperately she missed him. How much she needed him, with his blue eyes and his warm smile and it all just made her cry harder._

_The the voice returned_ — _louder this time_ — _accompanied by a sharp tap on her shoulder._

_“Granger?! It **is** you! Right? What the... Merlin, will you stop wailing a second so I can find out?”_

_Hermione finally looked up. Through blurred, teary eyes she saw the last thing she had either expected_ — _or wanted, for that matter. In that moment, it was clear that the Fates were against her._

_Because of all people, Draco Malfoy was staring down at her with an expression that had ‘if you’ve gone stark raving mad, please clap once’ written all over it._

_Hermione stared. Malfoy stared back._

_Malfoy. It **was** Malfoy._

_“M-malfoy?” she managed._

_“Good grief, what are you doing?” Malfoy demanded. His grey eyes were wide and disbelieving, and he shook his head a few times as if to affirm that she was actually there. “I know the beer’s overrated but you don’t have to cry about it.”_

_And that was all it took to set her off again. Hermione buried her face in her hands, and dissolved into a fresh bout of sobs. She was vaguely aware that Malfoy was gaping at her and she really should pull herself together, but she just couldn’t. Out of all the people_ — _literally **all** the people in the world she could have run into_— _it just had to be sodding Malfoy. Malfoy who was still standing there, witnessing her having a fit in the middle of the street._

_“Granger, stop it,” Malfoy demanded, sounding somewhat panicked now._

_Hermione cried a bit harder, if only to spite him._

_“Look, I hate to interrupt your little mental breakdown but you’re sort of becoming the next big tourist attraction in this town.”_

_“Will you...please...just go?” Hermione managed, trying to keep herself from just losing it and **screaming** at him. “Just leave, Malfoy!”_

_A bout of silence. Then…_

_Fine,” Malfoy replied, inflecting a tone of bored disdain. “It was...interesting running into you again. Let’s never do this again sometime.”_

_She heard the tell-tale crunch of boots on gravel as he walked away. Finally, the footsteps faded. She was alone again. Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes. She really needed to get back to her flat. It was bad enough that Malfoy had seen her in this state, but people were still staring and…_

_...and Malfoy was coming back._

_Her breath hitched in her throat._

_Malfoy was coming **back.**_

_Hermione stared as he turned around and marched over again. He scowled down at her, looking unhappy and put upon but his mouth was pressed in a thin, determined line. Finally, he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket._  

_“Here,” he grumbled, holding it out for her._

_Hermione scowled and turned away. “I don’t need…”_

_“Yes, you do,” Malfoy snapped. “Just take the bloody thing because I’m not letting you use my sleeve.” He crossed his arms defensively, evidently shielding said sleeves. That’s when Hermione noticed he was wearing a shabby jacket and denims._

_Right. So Malfoy was in Brussels and apparently, a Muggle now. Because life just wasn’t insane enough to begin with. She resisted the urge to just start bawling again. She was so bloody exhausted and she really couldn’t take this anymore._

_But she could take the handkerchief. Maybe then, Malfoy would leave._

_“Thanks,” she mumbled, plucking it from his fingers. “But you can really…”_

_He flopped down next to her. Right **next** to her. He actually had the gall to nudge her out of his way to make room on the bench._

_“...go now,” she finished flatly._

_Malfoy ignored her. He picked at his nails, kicked his legs out idly and basically made himself as comfortable as possible. Hermione decided to spend this happy quality time by trying to turn him to ashes with nothing but the sheer force of glare power._

_Clearly, she needed to work more on her ash inducing glare because Malfoy just sat there, happy as the proverbial clam._

_“So,” he said suddenly, breaking the  frosty silence. “Hi.”_

_“Hello, Malfoy,” she replied coldly. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?”_

_“Oh, the usual,” Malfoy replied blithely. “Exploring new cultures, expanding my horizons, keeping crazy women company so they don’t go on a murderous rampage through the streets of Belgium. And yourself?”_

_Hermione had half a mind to punch him again, just because. But she was a **grown up** now, and that would hardly do. She could handle Malfoy just fine without resorting to violence. “I’m fine, thank you,” she replied primly._

_“Yes, I noticed. Remind me to stay the hell away from you when you’re actually upset about something.”_

_“Why do you even care, Malfoy?” she snapped._

_“I don’t. You just happen to be the most interesting thing that’s happened to me today.”_

_Being a grown up was overrated, Hermione decided. If anyone deserved a punch to the face (again), it was Malfoy._

_Said Malfoy immediately confirmed this by abandoning his nail assessment and turning to her. His expression was curious and quite frankly, it offended her a little._ _“So Granger, surprise me. Why are you crying? In Belgium, no less?”_

_Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. “I can cry wherever I want. If I want to cry in Belgium, then I will cry in Belgium.”_

_“I didn’t say you **couldn’t** cry in Belgium. I just asked **why** you were crying in Belgium.”_

_“It’s not your Belgium, Malfoy!” she snapped. “What are you doing here anyway?”_

_Malfoy sneered. For a split second, Hermione saw the boy she went to school with_ — _that foul, evil, loathsome little cockroach who had spared no opportunity to make her miserable. This was that same spoilt, entitled, awful boy. But then she looked again and she saw other things. The shabby jacket and worn out trainers. He was in dire need of a haircut, and coming from her that was saying something. Ink smudges on his fingers. And she couldn’t help but stare. He looked so...normal. So non-Malfoyish._

 _And that was another thing_ — _he was still here. Keeping her company, keeping her from losing it again. Sure, he didn’t look particularly thrilled about it but...he **was** still here._

_“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” she asked again. This time, she was genuinely curious._

_Malfoy laughed and scrubbed a hand through his blond hair, mussing it up. “Alright, we’ll do this your way then. I’ll answer your questions, if you’ll answer mine.”_

_“Okay,” she replied hesitantly. What more did she have left to lose? He had already seen her crying, hadn’t he? “So, go on then. Why are you here? In Belgium, I mean?”_

_Malfoy hummed thoughtfully, considering the question. “Well, it’s a long, heart-warming story about personal growth and introspection but I’ll give you the footnotes. Basically, Father and I had a slight... let’s call it, difference of opinion. He thought that I should marry this nice, pretty girl called Astoria Greengrass and I thought I was gay. So, he gave me two choices. I could be bent or I could be a Malfoy. I picked one and apparently it was the wrong answer.”_

_“He kicked you out?” Hermione blurted._

_Malfoy scowled at her. “I prefer the term ‘disinherited’,” he replied haughtily._

_“Sorry,” she mumbled. Great. Now she felt bad. Malfoy clearly had it worse than her and she had just spent the last half hour snapping at him. “But you’re...alright?”_

_“Why, Granger,” Malfoy drawled. The smirk made a reappearance. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for me.”_

_“I…”_

_“Please,” Malfoy scoffed. “At least I’m not sobbing in the street yet.”_

_Hermione glared at him. “Make that crack one more time and I promise you will be,” she threatened._

_Malfoy just laughed. “Your turn, Granger. Go on, tell me all about it.”_

_Hermione froze. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to talk to Malfoy about how her life had fallen apart? Really? Malfoy? There had to be a less painful way to die of humiliation…_

_“Granger, come on. We made a deal. Where’s that Gryffindor courage I’ve heard so much about?”_

_Hermione took a deep breath. And then she talked. At first she hesitated, stopping every now and then to gauge Malfoy’s reaction. Nothing. No smirks or vicious grins or cruel taunts. Not even a chortle. He just sat there and listened_ — _intent grey eyes trained on her as she went on and on. By the time she was winding down, her throat was dry but the words were coming easily and Malfoy was still there, listening. It was quite possibly, the most surreal moment of her life._

_“And that’s it,” she finished quietly. “I threw away everything I had for something I thought I wanted. And now it’s just...gone. And that...that’s why I’m crying in Belgium.”_

_“Ah,” Malfoy commented helpfully._

_Hermione waited for him to follow that up with something, anything. It struck her that she really **must** be desperate If Malfoy’s opinion on her life had started mattering…_

_But, for whatever reason, it did matter. She wanted to know what he had to say. So she waited, and Malfoy still said nothing._

_And then, the prat did the unthinkable. He nodded and got up, dusting his jeans off. “Well, this was fun, Granger. Take care and all that. Keep in touch. Actually on second thought, don’t. Oh, and try the waffles. They’re not half bad.”_

_Hermione’s jaw dropped as he started walking away. Really? Seriously?!_

_“Oi!”_

_Malfoy halted and turned around, looking at her enquiringly._

_“Is that it?” Hermione snapped indignantly. “You badger me until I tell you my story and now you’re just walking away? What the hell, Malfoy?”_

_Malfoy shrugged and grinned shamelessly. “What can I say, Granger? I like stories.”_

_Hermione was started to see red. So, that’s what this was about? His bloody entertainment? Typical. Why had she expected anything else out of bloody Malfoy?_

_“You...you’re **such** an arse!” she hissed, pointing a vicious, accusing finger at him. “You’re supposed to say...I don’t know, **something** to help me!”_

_“Help you?” Malfoy belted back. He laughed again and she seriously considered pulling out her wand and hexing him, Muggles be damned. “Granger, you don’t need help. You **know** what you bloody well want. You just want me to tell you what it is. Well, I’m not going to. You’re a big girl. Write your own damn story.”_

_“But…” She faltered, racking her brains for a suitable retort. There wasn’t one. Her shoulder sagged in defeat. “What if I’m already at the end?”_

_Malfoy shrugged, but a slight smile pulled at his lips. For a second, he almost looked understanding.  “Then you find a new story. But at least finish this one first. There’s only one way to go, Granger. Ahead. I suggest you get started.”_

_He nodded his farewell, shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking away, leaving Hermione to stare after him. She watched him go and panic took over. In that moment, in this strange city, he was the only one left. Git though he may be, but Malfoy was a bit of home. She really didn’t want to lose that._

_“Malfoy, get back here!”_

_He didn’t._

_“It’s not that simple!” she called after him._

_Malfoy kept walking._

_“You think it is but it’s not, you know!”_

_He didn’t even turn around, the git. He really was going to leave her to figure this out for herself. Well, fine! But he was damn well going to give her some answers first! It was only fair._

_“What about you?” she yelled after him. “Where’s **your** story headed, Malfoy?”_

_He turned around. He was grinning again, and she couldn’t help but note how young he looked. With his old jacket and snowflakes in his hair._

_“I don’t know,” he called back. “Maybe I’ll join a band or something.”_

_Hermione laughed shakily. Of all the things she could be talking about right now…_

_“Let me guess. Lead singer?” She wouldn’t put it past him, the ruddy show off._

_“Bass player,” Malfoy corrected. “See you, Granger. Say hi to the Weasel for me. Potter, too.”_

_And then he was gone, disappearing into the streets of Belgium. Had he even been there at all? Or had she just imagined him? The thought brought a bubble of laughter forth and she shook her head. No, not even in her worst moments would she go so far as to hallucinate about Malfoy. He had definitely there been for real_ — _with some pretty solid advice apparently. For the first time in weeks, Hermione smiled. She finally had a plan. She wasn’t lost anymore, and it was all thanks to a git she hadn’t seen in years._

 _And so, as she ran down the street to her flat_ — _barely glancing at Mannekin Pis as she did_ — _she made a promise to herself. Some day, she would track Malfoy down again and thank him. Maybe she’d even watch his band perform._

_But that could wait._

_Her story wasn’t over yet, and she was going to find her happy ending._

 


	2. Chapter 2

~*~*~*~*~ **End of Flashback, Back to Year 2** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Mione?” Ron asked, shaking her shoulder gently.

Hermione snapped back to attention. “Sorry, what?”

“You zoned out for a bit there,” Ginny told her.

“Oh,” Hermione mumbled. “Sorry. I was just...thinking.”

“So?”

She started a bit and looked up as Harry voiced the question. “What made you decide to come back?” Harry clarified. “You never finished the story.”

Hermione smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, it’s a long, heart-warming tale of personal growth and introspection but I’ll give you the footnotes. Basically, I had some sense knocked into me.”

“I see,” Harry replied after a beat of silence. Hermione waited for the inevitable round of questions, but there were none. He gave her a small smile and gestured to the bar. “So how about a little help with the next round?”

She obliged and accompanied him to the bar. “You know,” Harry whispered as soon as they were out of earshot. “Someday, I’m going to get you to tell me the real story.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Someday, I’ll tell it to you myself,” she promised. “By the way, quick question— do you prefer lead singers or bass players?”

Harry frowned in confusion. “Like in a band?”

“No, Harry. Like a chess club. Of course, like in a band!”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.” She waited patiently as he considered it. After a while, he nodded and turned back to her. “Bass players,” he announced firmly.

“Bass players. You’re sure?”

“Definitely. Bass players. Anyone can sing. But you’ve got to love a bloke who plays an instrument, yeah?”

She smiled slightly and nodded, as if coming to some sort of private understanding. “I think so too.”

Harry grinned and followed her to the bar, making a mental note to explore that odd conversation at a later date. But it could wait. For now, it was a great night, a great addition to this chapter of his life. His best friends were here, he was with the girl he loved, the night was young and filled with laughter and hope. Things were finally looking up.

All was well.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“And that kids, is the story of how your Aunt Mione met your Father. Again.”

Harry suppressed a chuckle as a round of exasperated groans sounded all around him.

“Really?” Scorpius whined. “I mean, really?”

“How much longer is this going to take?” Al demanded.

“We’re getting there,” Harry replied, over all the complaining. “Now, let’s talk about what happened next, shall we?”

Mutinous silence greeted that suggestion, all except Lily who was still wide eyed and wonder struck. James groaned and slumped into his seat.

“I could be snogging my girlfriend right now,” he mumbled despondently.

“We’re going to miss the Yule Ball, aren’t we?” Al muttered.

“We’re going to miss college,” Scorpius retorted.

“Will you be quiet?” Lily hissed urged. “We’re missing the rest of the story!”

Harry smiled as she nudged and prodded her brothers into submission. When all was silent, he started up again.

“And so began Year 3. Ron and Hermione were back together and things looked wonderful, for a while. And then, all hell broke loose. You see, none of us had anticipated the sheer magnitude of the challenge we were about to face. All things considered, it would be our greatest one yet...”

 

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 3** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“I quit!” Hermione shrilled as she slammed the crumpled piece of parchment on the table, making all of them jump. Her hair was a frazzled mess and her eyes were scanning the papers with crazed urgency again, looking for the elusive solution. “I’ve tried every combination in existence,” she hissed, angrily batting a stray strand of hair out of her face. “This is impossible!”

“We can’t give up,” Ron said firmly, peering over her shoulder. “We’ll beat this, Mione. We have to!”

“But Ron, look at it!” she practically wailed, shoving the parchment at him. “The seating arrangements just don’t add up. According to our latest plan, my parents are sitting with your Aunt Muriel, your parents are with the singles and Charlie is expected to be at three tables at the same time!”

Ron snorted. “If they’re the bridesmaids’ tables, he’ll find a way.”

Blaise’s attention snapped and he abandoned the envelopes he was addressing. “There are bridesmaids’ tables at your wedding?” he demanded. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Oh my, what an awful oversight,” Hermione drawled, turning back to her notes. “Keep writing those invitations out. Do _not_ stop. Harry, how are you doing over there?”

“Almost done,” Harry replied, stuffing the last of his invitations in their requisite envelopes. “Hey Mione, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why am _I_ on the Wedding Committee?”

Hermione huffed and abandoned her charts. “Because _we_ need all the help we can get,” she told him. “Ever since _Ron’s_ mum decided to add a ‘few extra names’ to our guest list...”

Come on,” Ron whined. “I can’t _not_ invite my cousins.”

“This is two hundred more people!”

“Two hundred ‘more’ people?” Blaise repeated blankly. His gaze swivelled back to the invitations and his expression crumpled to one of abject misery.

Hermione turned to him with a harried nod. “And that’s not including my cousins from Australia, my other cousins from Kent, almost everyone from Hogwarts…”

Harry’s head swam a bit as the list went on and on. “I thought you wanted a small intimate wedding,” he pointed out.

Hermione trailed off and exchanged a knowing look with Ron. He sighed and nodded, as if answering a silent question. They did that all the time. It was very unsettling.

“Harry, I think it’s time you learn the truth about the wedding fairy,” Ron announced solemnly. “She doesn’t exist.”

Harry rolled his eyes and lobbed a cushion at him, which Hermione deftly caught. “What he means,” she explained patiently, “is that the wedding you end up with is never the one you planned for. Take us, for example. We wanted a simple evening ceremony under the stars, with just our friends and family. And what do we have?”

“An afternoon at the Burrow, over six hundred guests, a chocolate fountain and my Uncle Octavius playing the bagpipes,” Ron recited obligingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I rest my case. So, can everyone please just get these invitations done? We can go down to the Post Office tomorrow and owl them. I still need Ginny to help me pick out a dress.” She blinked and looked around as if just realising something. “By the way, where _is_ Ginny? She was supposed to be here hours ago to help out with this stuff.”

Every eye in the room turned on Harry, awaiting an explanation. He sighed and tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. “She’s been really busy at work,” he explained, trying to sound cheerful and optimistic about it. “But she promised to make it to the bar later so…”

“Is she working late again?” Ron exclaimed. “Gods, what is that? The third time this week?”

“Close,” Harry muttered. “It’s the fourth time in two weeks.” Or something like that. He had stopped keeping track after a while, really. All he knew was that it had been ages since they had spent a night together, let alone any real quality time.

“Well, maybe that’s a good sign,” Hermione replied bracingly. “She’s been trying to move ahead at the WWN for a while now. Maybe they’ll even put her on air. Merlin knows she deserves it and…”

The door suddenly burst open, cutting her off. Harry’s eyes widened as Ginny stumbled in, grinning from ear to ear and flushed with excitement. “You won’t believe what happened at work!” she informed them breathlessly. “I got promoted! I’m going to be on air at the WWN!”

Blaise was the first to react. He scrambled over and grabbed Hermione firmly by the shoulders. “Say ‘maybe Blaise will get lucky with the hot blonde twins at the International Affairs Department’. Say it!”

 

****

 

Later that night, Harry lay next to Ginny in bed, still trying to get his head around things.

“So this promotion,” he began, slightly irked by how cautious he sounded. “Kind of sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Hm?” Ginny frowned slightly as she considered that and shrugged. “I suppose,” she replied, putting her head on his chest. “To be honest, I didn’t really ask a lot of questions. I was pretty excited.” She grinned happily. “I’m going to be live on the Wireless Network,” she whispered, sounding awed. “I can hardly believe it. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this, Harry? Do you have any idea what this means to me?”

He didn’t, really. But he was starting to suspect that nothing else would ever be quite as important as this. And what did that mean for them?

Ginny smiled brightly and carried on. “When Dean told me I was in, I almost…”

  _Wait, what?_

“What?!” Harry blurted, bolting up and turning to face her. “Dean? Dean Thomas? Your ex _,_ Dean Thomas?”

“Yes,” Ginny replied slowly. “He’s going to be my co-host on the Evening News. He’s the one who recommended my name for the program in the first place.”

Harry just stared at her, not really sure if he wanted to laugh incredulously or succumb to a scream of frustration. “Imagine my surprise,” he said blandly. “So...so what is this then? He just suddenly decides to do you a favour after you coincidentally left him for me?”

“No,” Ginny shot back, her frown deepening. “He decided to recommend me for a job I love and deserve, because he knows I’m the best choice for it. I thought you’d be happy for me, Harry. Why are you acting like this?”

“Why?” Harry did laugh a bit this time. “Why? Maybe because I haven’t seen you all month, Ginny. Maybe because we’ve barely spoken because you’re just so damn tired when you come home that all you want to do is sleep. This is the first time I’ve stayed over at your place in weeks. And now I find out you’re going to be out doing the evening news _with your ex_ and I probably won’t see you again for Merlin knows how long...really Gin, did you even consider that _maybe_ he’s trying to get you back?”

“Dean and I are done!” Ginny snapped, sitting up as well. “He knows that. We _both_ know that! He gave me this job because I can _do_ it, Harry. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“I just think that…”

“When we got together, you said we’d do this anyway I wanted. Well, this is the way I want it, Harry. I need to focus on my career. I need to do this.  Can you please just do this for me?”

Harry trailed off. This was turning into a fight. Lately, everything seemed to turn into a fight with Ginny, and he really didn’t want their brief time together after so long to devolve into an argument. “I’m happy for you,” he said finally. “I am, Gin. I just miss you, that’s all.”

Ginny smiled sweetly and traced his cheek with her fingers. Her lips pressed against his, soft and warm. It felt a bit like a bribe, to be honest. “I miss you too,” she whispered. “Just be patient, Harry. Things will settle down soon, I promise.”

Harry pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling into his gut.

Somehow with Dean Thomas in the picture, he didn’t think things looked quite so simple anymore.

 

****

 

Turns out, Harry was right.

Over the days, Ginny spent more and more time at the office and he hardly ever saw her. Harry’s evenings were no longer about fun, beer and catching up with his friends. Now it was about Hermione stressing over the ever increasing number of wedding details, Harry stressing over Ginny, Ron stressing over calming both of them down and Blaise making things just a little bit worse.

“Hydrangeas?” he scoffed, leaning over to look at Hermione’s latest notes.They were all together at the flat for dinner, except Ginny who was of course working late. “It’s like you’re trying to have a wedding in the 1950s.”

“I wanted roses,” Hermione muttered. “But apparently, my cousin Harriet already did them last year…” She shook her head and chucked her quill away, leaning against Ron and closing her eyes. “Someone switch on the wireless. We might as catch the news.”

Harry obliged and waved his wand, bringing the old set to life. The sound of Ginny’s chirpy voice brought  a smile to his lips.

 

_“...and the Falmouth Falcons made an unexpected comeback with their win against the Kenmare Kestrals, bringing them one step closer to the Semi Finals…”_

 

Ron grinned and increased the volume with another waveof his wand. “She sounds brilliant,” he spoke up happily. “A bloody natural, eh? Mum’s over the moon about this new gig.”

“Hush,” Hermione waved him off impatiently. “I want to hear the rest of…”

 

 _“...and now, back to Dean Thomas with the latest on the Ministry budgets. Dean?"_  

_“Thank you, Ginevra. And may I say you look absolutely lovely tonight.”_

 

A laugh, cheerful and just on this side of flirtatious.

 

_“Thank you, Dean. You don’t look too bad yourself.”_

_“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear. But back to the news. Minister Shacklebolt responded to criticism on the new budget directives with…”_

 

The rest of Dean’s report crackled out of existence as Ron hurriedly turned the set off. Harry said nothing as his friends exchanged wary glances.

In the ensuing silence, Ginny’s laugh rang in his ears.

“It’s just a little on air banter,” Hermione spoke up hesitantly.

“‘Course,” Ron mumbled. “They’re just trying to spice up their show.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Blaise smirked. “You could cut all that sexual tension with a knife, am I right?”

“Shut it and help me with these linen samples,” Hermione snapped at Blaise, all but dragging the snickering git away before he did any more damage.

“You know he’s just being a pillock, right?” Ron spoke up, clapping Harry’s shoulder supportively. “It’s just work, nothing else.”

“I know,” Harry replied, forcing a smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

That night, when he called Ginny after her shift ended, he got her voicemail. Harry fell asleep alone with her flirtatious laugh ringing in his ears and wondering if maybe, just maybe Blaise had a point.

 

****

 

“Of course I have a point!” Blaise announced a few days later, at their usual booth in the Leaky Cauldron. He ignored Ron’s warning scowl and turned his attention to a despondent Harry, pointing a dramatic finger at him. “Your girlfriend’s shagging that Thomas bloke.”

“Oi!” Ron snapped. “That’s my _sister_ you’re talking about!”

Blaise ignored him as he continued on his spiel. “Don’t get me wrong — I love Genevieve. But as Harry’s best friend…”

“Excuse me but I have it on good authority that I’m Harry’s best…”

“As Harry’s _best_ friend, I have a responsibility. That girl is getting a little something on the side, I’ll stake my reputation on it.”

“Ginny is not cheating on me,” Harry added firmly. Whatever he may think about their current situation, he had faith in his girlfriend. Dean, on the other hand merited about as much credibility as a Niffler in a room full of Galleons.

“Please,” Blaise scoffed. “Have you heard her and Thomas on the air recently? What about last night when he said…”

 

_And now, back to the lovely Ginevra with a weather update._

“Or the day before that when he said…”

_And here’s my beautiful co-worker with the latest on The Quibbler’s Charity Fundraiser for Crumple Horned Snorkacks...”_

“Or last week when _she_ said…”

_And now, Dean Thomas with sports.”_

 

Harry frowned in confusion. “She didn’t say anything about...” 

Blaise scoffed derisively. “Subtext, Potter. It’s all in the subtext and you’re missing it.” 

“Blaise, stop it,” Hermione scolded, looking absolutely exasperated. “Enough is enough. Ginny is not cheating on Harry. She would never do that and you’re a prat for suggesting such a thing.”

“Please,” Blaise drawled. “Look at the facts, will you Granger? She’s always at work, we hardly ever see her anymore and then there’s all that ‘innocent banter’ with Thomas on the air. If she’s got nothing to hide, why is she avoiding us?”

Harry tried to avoid Ron and Hermione’s uneasy glances. The truth was Ginny _had_ been avoiding them these last few days. When Harry offered to stay over, she claimed she was too tired. She hadn’t shown up for drinks last week either and even Hermione— who spent as much time at Ginny’s flat as she did at her own with Harry and Ron— hadn’t seen her in a while. All in all, Harry couldn’t say for certain that Ginny wasn’t hiding something and he couldn’t say for sure when these secrets had come between them.

“It doesn’t mean she’s cheating on Harry,” Ron argued, clearly intent on defending his sister’s honour.

“It doesn’t mean she isn’t,” Blaise retorted.

“She’s not!”

“She could be!”

“Okay!” Harry spoke up over their rising voices. “Enough already! How about we leave my girlfriend alone for a second, yeah? Maybe she’s hiding something and maybe she isn’t, but it’s nobody’s damn business either way. Whatever it is, I think we can all agree that if _I’m_ not asking questions, nobody else has the right to. So can we please just drop it and talk about literally anything else?”

He glared around the now silent table, waiting for a reply.

“Fine,” Ron mumbled after a bout of uneasy silence.

“Very well,” Blaise sighed. “We’ll act like grownups about it.”

They nodded sombrely and Harry sighed in relief. “Thank you,” he muttered, returning to his drink.

“I’ll bet you a hundred galleons she’s shagging Thomas,” Blaise muttered under his breath.

“I’ll see your hundred and raise you two hundred,” Ron countered, practically baring his teeth.

“Oh, is that right?” Blaise sneered. “How about we make this interesting, Weasley?”

That got Ron’s attention. He cocked his head and his eyes sparked with renewed interest. “You aren't suggesting…”

“I do,” Blaise replied solemnly. “Ronald Weasley, I challenge you to a slap bet.”

“Deal!” Ron declared firmly. They nodded and shook hands while Harry gaped in dismay.

“What?” he groaned. “No! That is _not_ what I meant!”

Hermione just looked confused. “I’m sorry, slap what now?”

“A slap bet,” Ron explained gleefully. “In its simplest terms, the winner gets to hit the loser as hard as he can in the face.”

Hermione raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “That is absolutely insane,” she scoffed. “What kind of silly, childish…”

“You can be slap bet commissioner,” Blaise offered.

She practically shot up in her seat. “Ooh, what are my powers?”

“The Slap Bet Commissioner regulates the rules of the slap bet,” Blaise elaborated. “Which means that when I prove our little Jennifer is paying Thomas a little behind the scenes visit, you get to decide how hard I get to slap your fiancé in the face.”

Ron smirked. “Actually, what it means is when _I_ prove Blaise is full of shite, you get to decide how hard I get to sock him in the jaw. And,” he added, his eyes glittering dangerously, “it’s going to be hard.”

Hermione quickly got into the spirit of things. “Very well,” she intoned, lowering her voice solemnly for added effect. “As slap bet commissioner, I accept the wager on behalf of both parties. May the best man win.”

Blaise smirked and lifted his chin. “Oh, I plan to.”

Harry just groaned and held his head in his hands. This was going to end _so_ badly.

 

****

**A few days later...**

 

 

“Harry, are you okay?”

Harry started out of his thoughts and almost dropped his stir fry. “What?” he blurted, turning around to look at Ginny.

She frowned as she approached him and looped her arms around his neck. “I asked if you were okay,” she repeated. “You’ve been distracted all night.”

Great. So she had noticed. Harry smiled brightly and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he insisted, pushing all thoughts of Blaise and his stupid slap bet out of his head. “Just thinking, that’s all.” He turned the heat down and put the wok away, pulling Ginny closer and holding her close. “I’m just really glad you made it to date night this time. I’ve missed you.”

Ginny smiled and her brown eyes sparkled in the dim light. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry work has been so crazy. Dean keeps insisting we stay late and finish exchanging notes for the next segment...”

Harry bit his tongue to halt a forthcoming rant on Dean Thomas and just what he could do with his notes. Really, wasn’t it enough that he spent all day with Ginny? The blighter had to keep her after hours too? For the thousandth time, he wondered why Ginny just couldn’t see what Thomas’ intentions were. The man was clearly trying to replace Harry and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

But this wasn’t the time to think about that. He was in no mood to fight with Ginny and they had so little time to themselves anyway. And he had promised he would do this any way she wanted…

“Forget about Dean,” he said. “All I want is some time for _us_ tonight.”

“You got it,” she promised. “Just you and me and…”

And the Floo flared to life.

“Ginny? You around?”

Dean’s face appeared in the fireplace and he smiled pleasantly at them. Harry clenched his jaw while Ginny cleared her throat and disentangled herself.

“Ah, there you are,” Dean grinned. “And Harry too, of course. How are you, mate?”

“Hello Dean,” Harry replied blandly. “What a _totally_ unexpected surprise.”

“Dean, what’s up?” Ginny asked, frowning as she approached the flickering fire. “I thought we made all the notes last night and…”

“Oh, we did,” Dean agreed. “I’m really sorry to interrupt your evening but I was hoping to catch you before you got busy over the weekend. About that little project we spoke about?”

“Oh of course,” Ginny cut in hastily. “The...um, project.” Harry frowned as she shifted uneasily. If he didn’t know better, he would swear Ginny looked a little nervous. Finally, she turned back to him. “Harry, this will just take a minute. Why don’t you go take care of dinner in the meantime?”

She was trying to get rid of him. She _was_ hiding something. A surge of alarm rose inside him, battling with confusion and bewilderment. But Thomas was still there, in his fireplace and there was little he could do right now. So Harry nodded and took his leave. “Don’t be too long,” he told her softly as he left.

Ginny nodded and gave him a small smile but the flash of guilt in her eyes was unmistakable. Something inside him clenched painfully. He didn’t want to believe she would do this to him. He _couldn’t._  But she was definitely keeping something from him. What? And why? Didn’t she know she could tell him anything? They had been together for a year now, maybe more. He had no secrets from her.

“...thought we talked about this.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. Ginny’s voice was low and agitated and it was carrying through from the living room. He could just about hear her. _If_ he kept still and quiet as a church mouse. In fact, if he dug out the Extendable Ears George had given him last Christmas…

His train of thought caught up and Harry shook his head firmly. No, he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t going to eavesdrop on his girlfriend, for Merlin’s sake. Was this all their relationship meant to him? He still trusted her. He _had_ to.

But Ginny was still hissing in the Floo and she was clearly keeping things from him, wasn’t she?

_Damn it._

“ _Accio_ Extendable Ears.”

He caught them and hurried over to the wall, ignoring the clamouring of his conscience. _Just this once,_ he told himself. _Just this one time to prove that there’s nothing wrong._

“I told you I’d think about it,” Ginny was saying. “Honestly Dean, all this pressure isn’t helping.”

“I don’t want to pressure you, Gin,” Dean cut in gently. That smooth, cajoling tone made Harry’s jaw tighten. “But you know how things stand right now. I need an answer from you and fast.”

A pause. Harry held his breath.

“Let me think about it,” Ginny repeated firmly. “And for Merlin’s sake, send an owl next time! Harry can’t find out about this.”

So, it was true then. There _was_ something...

“He’s going to find out eventually,” Dean replied evenly. “Better make it quick, Ginny. Time’s running out. I want you but if you’re not going to even try...”

“I want this,” Ginny murmured softly. “I’m trying, Dean. I swear.”

Harry’s heart sank. The whole world seemed to wither away to ashes, leaving him with the stark, bitter realisation that he’d been had. Ginny had betrayed him. She wanted Dean and...

Harry couldn’t be here right now. He Disapparated away with a crack, leaving the Extendable Ears on the table.

Let Ginny make of that what she will. Harry had heard enough.

 

****

 

His friends as always, were pillars of unflinching support during this dark phase in his life.

“I knew it!” Blaise crowed triumphantly. He drew his hand back and…

**SLAP!**

“ **Ouch!** ” Ron yelped, glaring and rubbing his cheek. “Bloody hell!”

“Hey!” Hermione snapped. “No calls without the slap bet commissioner’s approval! Besides, there’s no evidence Blaise won the bet anyway. For all we know, Ginny could be talking about anything.”

“Ha!” Ron yelled, raising a hand and reaching over the sofa to…

**SLAP!**

“ **Ouch!** Weasley!”

“Honestly!” Hermione scolded. “What did I _just_ say about...”

“It doesn’t matter anymore because I won,” Blaise muttered, rubbing his jaw gingerly. “She did say _I want you too,_ did she not?”

“ _This_ ,” Ron repeated firmly. “She said _I want this._ It could mean anything.”

Harry shook his head despondently. “I think it means she wants to be with Dean Thomas,” he replied miserably. He felt hollow inside. How could she do this to him?

“Exactly!” Blaise agreed cheerfully.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione murmured, squeezing his shoulder supportively. “You need to talk to her. If you’re jumping to conclusions…”

“I wish I was,” Harry replied. “But it’s pretty clear what’s happening, Mione. I heard her say…”

“Heard me say what?”

Harry jumped at the sudden intrusion and turned around, just as Ginny stepped in and shut the door behind her.

“We _really_ need to get a bell,” Blaise quipped, moving aside to let her through.

Ginny ignored him. In fact, she ignored everyone. Her brown eyes were trained on Harry, watching his every move. Harry stared back. Ginny looked nervous but she held his gaze steadily.

“Harry?” she repeated softly. She brought a hand forward and dropped something on the table in front of him. Despite himself, Harry winced as he recognized the Extendable Ears. Ginny’s lips twitched slightly. “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

_Are you leaving me? What are we doing with each other? Where are we headed? Why do we keep secrets from each other? Why don’t we talk to each other? What’s going on with you and why am I always the last to know?_

“Not particularly,” Harry told her. “Do you have something _you_ want to tell me?”

Ginny smiled. “Actually I do.”

Oh. So this was it.

Blaise and Ron leaned in eagerly and Harry rolled his eyes. Clearly, they weren’t going to get their privacy here.

“My room,” he suggested, taking her arm and leading her in.

She followed and the door shut behind them with an ominous click. Harry smiled tightly and led her over to the bed, sitting down with her. Ginny squeezed his hand as they sat in silence. When she spoke, it was clear she was choosing her words carefully.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Harry nodded jerkily. His throat felt dry and the room was suddenly far too hot. “I figured,” he muttered. “Just get it over with, Gin.”

“I’ve been talking to Dean a lot.”

  _You don't say,_ Harry though bitterly.

“And he’s really impressed by my performance.”

Honestly. Was she even _hearing_ herself?

“So he recommended me to headline WWN’s new station. In Argentina.”

Harry’s world screeched to a halt. What? His gaze jerked up from the floor. He stared at Ginny, eyes wide and unblinking. Ginny returned his gaze, regarding him with an anxious expression and biting her lip.

“What?” Harry croaked.

“WWN offered me a job in Argentina,” Ginny repeated softly. “That’s what Dean and I were talking about earlier when…”

“But…” Harry shook his head slowly. “But he said he _wanted_ you and...and you said...and then…”

Ginny’s lips twitched in amusement. “Yes,” she agreed. “He said he ‘wanted’ me for the position and he needed an answer soon. But I said I wanted to talk to you first. In hindsight, I can see how you might have misunderstood— especially if you were using Extendable Ears to eavesdrop on me. Not cool, by the way.”

He winced and scrubbed a guilty hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he mumbled gruffly. “I just didn’t get why you would keep secrets from me and then...I got a bit carried away, didn’t I?”

Ginny shook her head fondly and leaned into kiss him. “Just a bit,” she agreed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked. “Why were you hiding this from me?”

Ginny sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure about it. I mean, if I take this job it means I’m moving to Argentina. I didn’t want to spring that on you without a good enough reason.”

Argentina. That’s when Harry finally caught on. He blinked rapidly as things slowly slid into place. Ginny was moving away. From here, from home, from _him_. Oh Merlin, she _was_ leaving.

“You’re taking it,” he croaked out. “You’re taking this job.”

Ginny nodded slowly. “It’s what I want, Harry. It’s a whole new city, it’ll be great for my career—  I’d be crazy not to do this.”

Oh gods, this was happening. “So that’s it,” Harry mumbled. He couldn’t sit still anymore. He got up and started pacing, practically ricocheting off the walls as the world blurred past him. He didn’t care. He was panicking, thank you very much. “You’re leaving,” he started off again, vaguely aware that his tone was just on this side of hysterical. “You’re leaving me, you’re leaving us and that’s it. You give me the best year of my life and then you just take it away and…”

“No, Harry.”

He stopped pacing, whirling around to face her. Ginny held out her hands, squeezing reassuringly around his fingers as soon as he was in reach. “We’re not pulling a Ron and Hermione,” she told him firmly. “I‘m not running away to figure out what I want. I already _know_ what I want. I want this job in Argentina. I want adventure and excitement and not knowing what happens next. I want it more than anything else. But I want it with _you_.”

Harry froze as he realised what she was saying. Ginny just smiled hopefully.

“Come with me, Harry,” she said. “Come with me to Argentina.”

 

****

 

Ron slumped in his seat at the Leaky Cauldron, staring blankly at his friends. Despite the customary chatter of the Leaky Cauldron, the silence hung thick in the air. Even Blaise seemed to have nothing to say in the wake of Harry and Ginny’s announcement. 

“Argentina,” Hermione repeated, sounding a little dazed. “You’re moving to Argentina. _Both_ of you are moving to Argentina.”

Harry nodded and smiled, wrapping an arm around Ginny. “We are.”

“Okay,” Hermione acquiesced. “Why?”

Ginny shrugged and took a swig of beer. “Well, it just makes sense.” Her eyes darted to Harry as if for confirmation and he hastened to agree.

“We just think it’s worth a shot,” he told them. “And I promised Ginny we’d do this any way she wanted. I’m just making good on that promise.”

“So you’re leaving?” Ron blurted, looking a bit stricken at that. “Both of you?”

Harry smiled ruefully but confirmed the statement with another nod. “We are.”

“Yeah,” Blaise scoffed. “Sure you are.”

Every eye at the table swivelled around to him. Blaise took on a smug look as he settled back in his chair. “I give this whole Argentina thing a week, two weeks tops before it blows over,” he announced smugly. “Harry at least, isn’t going anywhere.”

Harry sighed. “Blaise, I know this is hard,” he offered cautiously. “But this is happening. I’m going with Ginny so we can be together.”

“Really?” Blaise arched an eyebrow. “Well, let’s talk about your plan, shall we? Ginny here will be working with WWN. What about your Auror training?”

Ginny shrugged. “I’m sure there’s crime in Argentina.”

“Alright,” Blaise conceded airily. “Let’s go bigger then. Ginevra, my pretty. Where do you see yourself in five years? Come on; hit me with your best shot.” Ginny opened her mouth to respond but Blaise cut her off. “One step ahead of you, love. You probably want to do what you’re doing right now. Living it up somewhere exotic and interesting, have adventures, try sushi, all that jazz. Hell, why stop at Argentina? You probably want to be in Tokyo or Paris or Mumbai. Sound about right?”

Ginny looked a little stunned. “Well, actually yes. That’s about it.”

“And you,” Blaise carried on, turning on Harry now. “Don’t even bother telling me where you want to be in five years. We’ve all heard it so many times I could sing that song in my sleep. You want to be married with— oh, I don’t know— six or seven kids.”

Harry didn’t really want to say yes. Blaise was obviously taking this in a direction nobody would enjoy very much. But he couldn’t deny it. That was exactly what he wanted.

Blaise’s eyes glinted in triumph at his silence. “I thought as much. So here’s my question. Which is it? Are you two going to be intrepid adventurers or are you going to have the little house with the picket fence? Actually scratch that, here’s another question. Exactly how long is it going to take for at least one of you to figure out that you want different things out of life? How long is it going to take for you to admit you can’t have both?”

“That’s two questions,” Hermione replied weakly. But her eyes drifted to Harry and he could just see the same doubts in her eyes. The same questions. How _were_ they going to do this? How was this going to work? Ginny didn’t look like she had any answers either. But finally, she spoke up.

“I want to be with Harry,” she said firmly. “We’re going to make this work. Yeah, it won’t be easy but...but he’s coming with me. And we _can_ have both. If we want to have kids eventually, we’ll have kids. If Harry wants a family, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“And they’ll travel the world with us,” Harry added, squeezing Ginny’s hand in support. “We’re doing this together. We’re going to have it all. We deserve it.”

“I see,” Blaise replied with a slow nod. “Question number three then. Do either of you _want_ it all? Because it seems to me...”

“Blaise, stop it,” Hermione cut in. Her tone was firm, carrying that no-nonsense inflection they had all instinctively learned to obey over the years. “It’s their call.” She turned back to her friends and smiled reassuringly. “And if it’s what you want, we’re all for it.”

Ron nodded stoutly, showing his support as well. “We want you to be happy. Both of you.”

“We are,” Harry assured him. Ron squeezed his shoulder. He didn’t look too convinced, none of them did. Blaise was still frowning, Hermione was sipping at her wine and avoiding direct eye contact and Ginny...Ginny looked the way Harry felt right now. Which wasn’t a very good look considering that Harry felt a bit terrified at the idea of what they were going to do together. But what other choice did they have? Ginny wanted this, and Harry wanted to be with Ginny. He did. They could do this. They were going to do this and if the thought of uprooting his entire life and moving to a different continent scared him, so what? That’s what adventure was all about. It was unpredictable and scary and...and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to deal with unpredictability right?

But, did he really want that ambiguity back in his life? He wasn’t sure he did. Not after the war. But this was for Ginny and he was doing this. That was that.

He would figure it out. For now, it was time to change the subject.

“So, it looks like Blaise lost the slap bet,” he declared cheerfully.

Okay, so maybe it was petty revenge but Blaise did start the whole interrogation thing in the first place. Besides, the distraction worked like a charm. The mood lifted at once.

Blaise's mouth twisted in distaste as Ron rubbed his hands with glee. “Oh, he did,” Ron agreed gleefully. “And there’s more. Slap bet commissioner, the floor is yours.”

Hermione smiled pleasantly at a now sulking Blaise. “Let’s get to business then,” she announced, reaching into her purse.

“Oh, for…” Blaise groaned and swiped a hand over his face. “You have a clipboard. Of _course_ you have a clipboard. Why am I even surprised?”

Hermione ignored him and scanned her notes. “The record shows that Blaise not only lost the slap bet but issued a slap _without_ the permission of the slap bet commissioner.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, feigning shock. “Say it isn’t so!”

“That’s not fair,” Blaise protested. “Weasley didn’t win either. Nobody predicted that she was moving to another country, did they? So technically, this was a draw at best.”

“Not quite,” Hermione grinned, tapping smugly at the clipboard. “Ron’s exact words were that he would prove _you were wrong_. And you _were_ wrong. Ginny wasn’t cheating on Harry at all.”

“He bet that I was cheating on Harry?” Ginny shrilled indignantly. “Slap him hard, Ron.”

“Seconded,” Harry affirmed.

“So,” Hermione continued over the scattered applause. “With the illegal slap on record, and with the power invested in me as Official Slap Bet Commissioner, I declare Ron the winner.”

“Yes!” Ron cheered.

“No,” Blaise whined.

“ _But_ in the spirit of fairness,” Hermione continued, “we’ll give you a choice, Blaise. You can get ten slaps right now. Or you’ll get five at any given time in the future. You won’t know how, you won’t know when, you’ll never see them coming. It can happen any time. But it will be five slaps and five only.”

And that right there was why Harry was infinitely grateful that Hermione was firmly on his side. Given the right motivation, she was downright devious.

“I’d take ten now if I were you,” she added primly.

“Why?” Ginny demanded. “Ten instead of five? That’s ridiculous.”

“But he’ll be living in fear for the Merlin knows how long,” Harry pointed out. “Take ten now and get it over with, that’s what I say.”

“I don’t care,” Ron replied, with a casual shrug. “So long as I get to slap him, I’m good.”

“Blaise?” Hermione prodded. “It’s all on you.”

Blaise took his time. He swallowed audibly and his fingers twitched in barely suppressed agitation. Harry half thought he might bolt given the chance. But Blaise— for all his bluster and bravado— was a man of his word and he proved that by nodding firmly and making his announcement.

“Five,” he declared staunchly. “I’ll take five. It’s just Weasley, for Merlin’s sake. He’s got the subtlety of a hippogriff in a china shop. There’s nothing he can do to surprise _me_ so. _.._ ”

**SLAP!**

Blaise yelped and toppled off his chair. Harry promptly burst into laughter. Oh, this day was looking _so_ much better...

“That’s one,” Ron announced cheerfully, rubbing his hand. “Four more to go!”

Blaise staggered as he stood up and plopped himself in the chair again. “Well played, Weasley,” he grumbled, rubbing his face. “Anyone seen a molar lying around?”

They laughed and raised their glasses and just like that all the questions were forgotten for the moment. Harry smiled as Ginny’s hand reached over to squeeze his. He would be alright. He had Ginny. What more could he possibly need? They were meant to be together.

And Harry decided there and then that this was the right thing to do.

It had to be.

Right?

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“You went to Argentina?” James exclaimed indignantly. “Now wait just a minute. So you can just run off to another country just like that but _I’m_ not allowed to spend one measly weekend in Hogsmeade?”

Dad gave him a quelling look. “Your father and I discussed that with you last week,” he stated firmly. “You may go to the Weird Sisters concert if you’re home by curfew and that’s our last word on the subject. No nights out. End of story.”

“Did he say ‘end of story’?” Scorpius demanded, perking up at once. “Call the first witness to the stand!”

James ignored him. “But that’s not fair! How come you get to…”

He was silenced by another classic Disapproving Dad Look. “First of all, I wasn’t finished. Secondly, the point of this story is for you to learn something from my experiences. Now, if you’ll just stop interrupting and let me get on with it…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 3 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~ 

**Four months later...**

 

 _“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”_  

The assembled crowd broke into a deafening round of applause and Harry was only too happy to join in as his beaming best friend swooped in to exchange a chaste kiss with his wife. This was it. Harry’s grin widened as he realised what had just come to pass.

Ron and Hermione were finally married.

And to think he had come _this_ close to missing it.

“I’m glad we changed our dates,” Ginny whispered in his ear. She smoothed down her green dress and her eyes shone with happiness as she regarded her brother and new sister-in-law. Harry thought she looked absolutely breathtaking. Maybe someday, it would be them at that altar. Some day. But not yet. They had to live Ginny’s dream first.

“I’m glad too,” he replied. WWN had wanted her in Argentina the week before, but they had fought tooth and nail to postpone the trip by a few days. They were moving to a new country and Merlin knew how long it would be before they’d see their friends again. Hermione and Ron had even considered moving the wedding dates up a few days so that Harry and Ginny could be there. Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. In the end, Ginny had fought her supervisors off and held the fort up for as long as she could. But that meant…

“Our Portkey is only good for a few more hours.”

Harry sighed and nodded. Well, it was time then. This was what it had all come down to. He had put in his transfer papers, packed his belonging and said his goodbyes. It was time to go to Argentina.

Ginny tugged gently at his hand. “Come on,” she said softly. “We’ll call Ron and Mione as soon as we get there.”

_Here goes nothing._

Harry allowed her to tug him through the crowd. The Burrow was all decked out and truthfully, it was one of the best weddings he had ever been to. A smile of amusement tugged at his lips as he remembered all those months of Hermione hyperventilating over flowers and linens and cake samples. She had been so worried that she wouldn’t get her dream wedding after all. That it would be nothing like the special day she had always wanted. But looking at her now, radiant in her wedding dress and twirling in Ron’s arms with the crowd smiling around them, he knew it was every bit as wonderful and special and unique a wedding as she could have wished for.

In the end, it wasn’t about the seating arrangements or the flowers or where they had the wedding. It was about her and Ron, together for the rest of their lives.

That’s what made it beautiful.

And as Ginny led him through the crowd, Harry hoped that he could have the same too one day. Some day.

“So it’s really happening.”

They halted as Blaise sauntered over, dressed to the nines as always. Harry smiled ruefully. As much as he would like to deny it, he was going to miss the bloke. He just sort of _grew_ on you, with his tasteless jokes and tactless comments and sharp suits. He would stay here and wreck his customary havoc and Harry wouldn’t be there to see it.

“So,” Blaise drawled, eyeing them with feigned disinterest. “You’re leaving then?”

“Our Portkey is only good for the next two hours,” Ginny answered for them. “It’s now or never.”

“I had my money on never,” Blaise said with a slight smirk. “But you can’t win ‘em all.”

“Blaise…” Harry began.

“No,” Blaise broke in, holding up a finger to silence him. “It’s my turn to talk, yeah?”

Harry shut up. He supposed it was Blaise’s turn. Merlin knew when Harry would get to hear one of his long winded, pointless speeches again.

“First of all, get a suit. Suits are cool, even in Argentina. Don’t even bother sending an owl because I’ll be too busy being awesome to read about how your wind surfing lessons are coming along. On that note, don’t try wind surfing. It’s stupid, everyone knows that. Honestly, I don’t even know why you brought it up. Don’t go looking for a pub as cool as the Leaky Cauldron, you won’t find one. In the unlikely event that you do, you won’t find a wingman as awesome as me anyway so it’s a waste of effort. And…”

“I’ll miss you too,” Harry interrupted. He grinned as Blaise shut up abruptly, looking a bit caught off guard. His friend cleared his throat pointedly and squeezed his shoulder.

“Perhaps you weren’t the worst wingman ever,” Blaise conceded gruffly.

Harry laughed and pulled him in for a hug. “Take care,” he whispered. “Write to me, yeah? I’ll miss you.”

“Oh for the love of...Jennifer, get him out of here before he starts wailing,” Blaise snapped, shoving him off and swiping discreetly at his eyes. “Seriously, this is just embarrassing, Potter. Pull yourself together.”

Harry let him go and wrapped an arm around Ginny instead. She said her own goodbye to Blaise, with a fond hug and kiss to the cheek. She took Harry’s arm again and then they were leaving. He tried not to look back as Blaise faded away with the Burrow in the distance.

This was it.

“This is it,” Ginny announced, stopping at the foot of the small hill overlooking the Burrow. She held out the key. The Portkey to Argentina. It was an actual key, Harry noted. Huh. Subtle. “One touch and we’re on our way.”

Harry nodded slowly. Time for action then.

He took a deep breath and held out his hand, letting his fingers reach forward and wrap around…

...nothing.

Harry’s fist closed around air as the key was suddenly yanked away. He started at the sudden movement and looked questioningly at Ginny. She blinked rapidly, the key clutched firmly to her chest. Wait, what? Harry started to pose a question but judging by Ginny’s stunned expression, she didn’t know what that was all about either.

“Uh, Ginny?”

Ginny flushed, clearly embarrassed. She cleared her throat and held out the key again. “Sorry,” she offered. “I don’t know why I...let’s just go again.”

He did. She snatched it back again. It was almost reflexive at this point. Harry was starting to think Gryffindor had lost out on one hell of a Seeker. “Maybe I should do it,” he suggested finally.

She nodded tersely and dropped the key in his hand. Harry held it out firmly. “Just grab it and we can go,” he told her.

_Away from here. Away from home. Away from our friends and all the people who love us._

_Why was he doing this?_

She smiled at him and he tried to take a little strength from it. But the lines of her mouth were tight. It looked like a grimace— strained and anxious. Her fingers came closer and closer, reaching out for the key…

...and Harry panicked. He jerked the key back on instinct.

Ginny dropped her hand. “Oh, good,” she said flatly. “I was worried it was just me.”

They stood there in awkward silence.

“I…”

Harry had no clue how to finish the rest of that sentence. He trailed off again. What was he _doing?_ Everything had been going so well. He was packed and set and ready to go. With Ginny. To a new land. That was the plan. So why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t she? Why were they...

“I don’t want to have _kids_ in Argentina,” Ginny whispered.

Right. That’s why.

Harry swallowed as things slowly slid into place. The realisation hit with the force of the Hogwarts Express. “I don’t want to have kids in _Argentina_ ,” he muttered. He didn’t. He really, really didn’t. What on earth had made him think that would be a good idea? The very concept was enough to send him reeling. Why hadn’t he realised just how mental that sounded? His life was here. His future was _here._

Ginny laughed shakily. “We’re not doing this, are we?”

No.

No, they weren’t. When it all came down to it, when the time came to take action and move ahead together, the truth was that they couldn’t. No amount of effort or willpower or wishing they could be together would ever change the fact that they wanted different things.

And it really, _really_ sucked that it had taken Harry this long to realise that, but there it was.

He wasn’t going to Argentina with her.

“I can’t go to Argentina with you,” he said. His insides twisted painfully but he forced the words out because all things considered, she deserved to know. “I’ll hate it and resent you and it’s...it’s just not what I want.”

“I don’t want to be tied down here,” Ginny whispered. A tear slid down her cheek, and he knew she felt as rotten as he did. “I’m so sorry. I can’t be.”

“I know.”

He did.

This was it.

Ginny smiled through her tears. “We’re breaking up, aren’t we?”

They were.

Oh Merlin, this was happening. The moment he had feared for Merlin knew how long and it was here. It was finally here. If ever, there was a time to just take it all back, throw caution to the winds and jump on board with her, it was now. But his feet were moving now, backing away from her. He shook his head sadly. He just couldn’t.

“I don’t want to hold you back,” he said. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

She raised a slim hand and brushed his jaw with her fingers. She would never touch him like this again. “I could never hate you,” she replied. “It’s _you_.”

But it just wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. So, he smiled through the sounds of his heart breaking in a thousand pieces and dropped the key in her hands. “Your move, Gin.”

Her hands closed around the key. “Goodbye, Harry,” she whispered.

The wind changed, and he had about a second to appreciate the irony of that metaphor. Then she was gone, leaving nothing but the memory of her laughing brown eyes and teasing smile. He stared at the spot where she had been standing for a long time.

The realisation set in slowly and painful. This was it. This was how their story would end.

As much as he hated it, _this_ was how it was meant to be.

Harry standing alone on a lonely hill, staring at the spot where she had been just a while ago. When she had still been his. When she had still been a part of his life.

She was gone.

End of story.

He turned his back on that spot and walked back to the Burrow.

Some day he would find someone who loved him enough to stay. Some day he would have children, a family. It wouldn’t be with Ginny, he knew that now.

A small part of him had always known.

But one day, when he had those kids, he would sit them down and tell them the story about the girl with the brown eyes. He would tell them how special she was, how wonderful life had been for that precious time they had together.

There was no happy ending with Ginny. But there was a story in there somewhere.

And it was one hell of a story.

 

****

 

Blaise found him in their usual booth at the Leaky Cauldron.

For once, he didn’t say anything. He just sat down next to Harry and ordered a couple glasses of scotch. He didn’t raise a toast to Harry’s glorious return to bachelorhood. He didn’t talk Harry’s ear off. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow when a girl in a low cut blouse walked in and sat next to him. They sat there in silence for ages. It was Harry who finally spoke up.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked, staring into the amber depths of his scotch. “You knew I wasn’t going to do it.”

“Yes,” Blaise replied. “But some things, you’ve got to find out for yourself.”

Duly noted. Harry had definitely learnt his lesson the hard way. “How was the rest of the wedding?”

“Not so bad. Mr and Mrs Granger Weasley took off to Aruba for their honeymoon and I had a pretty good time myself. Just so you know, the words _it’s for the bride_ will get you just about anything at a wedding.”

Harry’s lips twitched involuntarily. “Is that right?”

“I’ve got six phone numbers, two floo combinations, a Pinot Noir and a bag of Jordanian Almonds on my person right now.”

That did the trick. Harry chuckled and raised his glass, feeling just a bit better. Blaise smirked and joined him in a toast. “Welcome home, Harry.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

The funny thing was, he really meant it— even if he had never left in the first place. It had been tough saying goodbye. It was good to know that he still had this — the bar and Blaise and Ron and Hermione. Some things didn’t change and he was truly grateful for that.

“You know, if you’re going to be single again you’re going to need a wingman.”

Harry grinned ruefully. And he had this too. Maybe it was time to stop wishing for a future he couldn’t predict right now. Maybe it was time to start living the moment, just for the moment. And it was with that thought that he turned to Blaise and said the words he knew his friend had always wanted to hear.

“Blaise Zabini, teach me how to live.”

“Yes! Finally!” Blaise’s grin could have lit up a Christmas tree. He raised his glass and downed it in one swig,

“Just you wait, Harry,” he declared, raising a triumphant fist in the air. “This year is going to be legen-wait for it- dary. Legendary!”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“And that kids, is the story of the girl with the brown eyes.”

Lily padded over and looped her arms around Harry’s neck. “You must’ve been sad,” she said softly. Harry smiled and kissed her forehead, amused by his little girl’s obvious sympathy over his heartbreak. She was growing up so fast…

“I was,” he agreed, shifting her on to his lap. “But that changed soon enough and as you all know, we’re still friends. She was my first love and that’s something special. But I learnt something important from our time together. You can fall in love more than once. And you can love someone without being in love with them.”

“So you’re saying you still love Aunt Ginny?” Scorpius prodded. He looked very uncomfortable with the notion.

“As a friend,” Harry corrected. “When I look back on those times now, I know that’s all she ever could be. Yes, there was a time when I thought I’d never be happy without her but then I met…”

“Father,” Scorpius finished with a reluctant grin. He slumped back on the sofa, comfortable and at ease again.

Harry smiled back. “Exactly. Which brings us to the rest of the story...”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 4** ~*~*~*~*~

 

The day started with a pounding headache. Harry groaned and curled into his blanket, trying to block out the cruel and entirely unnecessary sunlight which clearly existed only to spite him. Gods, what had he done last night? His memory was foggy, nothing but bright lights and flashes.

He remembered the club. The strobe lights still seemed to flash before his eyes. And...Blaise? Yes, Blaise had been there. Of course he was. As Harry’s self appointed wingman, he was practically omnipresent. Most of the time, Harry didn’t mind. Ginny had been gone for over two months now. He still missed her dreadfully but Blaise seemed to have a near endless supply of booze and free club passes at his disposal and considering that he insisted on dragging Harry all over the city, it was no wonder that more often than not, Harry woke up hungover, half dressed and more often than not, in someone else's home.

Through a haze of sleep, he discerned the faint noise of his shower. For a second, he considered telling Ron to use his own damn shower and then he remembered that Ron and Mione didn’t live here anymore. Which meant…

Harry groaned.

Seriously? He didn’t even _remember_ pulling a bird last night. The bar he had been at didn’t even have that many girls, to the best of his recollection. He even remembered Blaise mumbling about a ‘total sausage fest’.

No, he had definitely not pulled last night. Maybe Blaise had.

Harry growled under his breath. If one of Blaise’s one nighters was using _his_ shower, he was going to kill the blighter. Blaise, not the girl. And now things weren’t making sense even in his head.

Harry muttered under his breath as he attempted to extricate himself from his covers. His head pounded as he stood shakily and knocked on the bathroom door.

“The room’s all yours,” he called out. “Just...you know, make yourself comfortable.”

There was no response save for a slight splashing. Harry shook his head and made his way to the kitchen. The second he entered, he wished he could just curl up and die. The light was agonizing in his current state and he whined in abject misery as he shuffled over to the fridge. Gods, where was the curry? Curry fixed everything. Especially a bitching hangover the size of…

“Harry James Potter! We need to talk!”

Harry whined as the insides of his head went off like a bleeding church bell. Blaise wasn’t appeased. He marched over and slammed the fridge shut. His expression spoke of great pain and misfortune. Harry absently wondered if he had thrown up on one of Blaise’s precious suits last night. Or eaten his firstborn. Although knowing Blaise, he would probably be far more devastated over the former.

“You suck at this!” Blaise ranted, barring him from the fridge. “You hear me? We have now arrived at the picturesque town of Sucksville. Population: **you!** ”

“Nooo,” Harry whined, grappling helplessly. “Curry…”

“I threw it out,” Blaise sneered. “And before you ask, you deserve it. Oh, you _deserve_ it.”

“What’d I do?” Harry moaned. “And where did you come from?”

“I let myself in when you pointedly refused to answer my Floo calls!” Blaise informed him. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when you took off last night? Do you? First rule of being single, Potter: You need a wingman! Do _not_ abandon your wingman. _Never_ abandon your wingman! That is _not_ legendary! It is not even legen-without the-dary! It’s just _rude_ , is what it is. We...”

 “Wait.”

Harry froze as Blaise’s little rant started bringing things back. Blaise _had_ been there but then he had left. That made sense. Harry recalled drinking (a _lot_ of drinking) and dancing alone for a bit, until someone had joined him. He couldn’t really recall much but he remembered a set of warm hands on his body, drawing him against a slim, toned body. He couldn’t put a face to those hands but he did remember a mesmerising pair of brown eyes. Laughing, teasing brown eyes.

Eyes _exactly_ like Ginny’s.

And then, lips on his neck. Soft, pliant lips, going lower and lower…and then he was drawing a blank. But judging by the fact that there was a girl in his shower and Blaise hadn’t been around since earlier that night...

“I brought a girl home,” Harry whispered.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Excuse you?”

“I brought a girl home,” Harry repeated blankly. “Unless you…”

“Nope,” Blaise clarified. “I went home after the nice lady Auror strip searched me. I offered to return the favour but…”

“Blaise!” Harry’s panicked voice cut off what promised to be a very disturbing story. He swallowed and scrubbed a shaky hand through his hair. “Are you listening to me? I brought a girl home!”

“That’s not all you brought home,” Blaise scoffed, gesturing at something behind Harry. “Seriously, what is _that_ all about?”

Harry’s gaze zeroed in on the large pineapple proudly holding court at his kitchen counter. He gaped, slightly dumbfounded. “I...I have no idea,” he mumbled. Gods, what had he _done_ last night? A whimper escaped him. This was bad. This was so bad. He couldn’t handle this. He was going to be sick. He just knew it...

“What?” Blaise demanded. “You’re going to whine about this now? It isn’t bad enough that you dumped me but then you go and pull a bird _without_ your wingman— to go grocery shopping with her, apparently— and now _you’re_ going to complain? Oh, I don’t think so.”

“I haven’t brought anyone back here since Ginny,” Harry groaned. Seriously, what the hell? His break up was still painfully fresh in his mind. There were days when Ginny was all he could think about. And now he had basically fucked up in the worst way possible. He had brought someone back to his place and...wait, had he even shagged her?

As if on cue, another flashback assaulted his already frayed senses. Those lips from earlier, tracing patterns down his chest. Brown eyes lit up with mischief and then those lips were wrapped around his cock and a talented tongue was licking and sucking at him, bringing him to completion and...

“Oh Merlin.” Harry staggered. His legs just refused to cooperate and he slumped on a chair, holding his head in his hands. “I am _never_ drinking again.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” Blaise snickered. “But let’s look at the silver lining, yes? You got some action. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t with Ginevra but…”

“Blaise, will you _please_ just shut up for a minute?” Harry snapped. This was it. He had wrecked it. That delicate, fragile, barely there strand of hope that he had been holding on to for two months was gone. He had officially ‘moved on’. His last connection with Ginny— the bed they had shared— had been surrendered to a total stranger in a night of drunken debauchery. And yes, he knew that Ginny was gone— maybe for good— but it didn’t make it any easier. He had been holding out for her. In the tiniest, deepest, darkest corner of his heart, he had been waiting for her to come back.

And now, he had officially stopped waiting. He had brought someone else back to his place. If that wasn’t giving up, he didn’t know what was. Appropriately, Harry began to panic.

“I have to get her out of here,” he announced, getting up shakily. “She’s got to go.”

“Harry, that’s just rude. At least buy her a coffee or someth…”

“No!” Harry snapped, marching over to his bedroom again. “I can’t do this. I can’t! She can’t stay. She has to…”

He wrenched the door open as he ranted, nearly colliding with the person on the other side.

Harry trailed off as his words turned to dust. His throat went dry and his eyes bulged. He heard Blaise’s sharp intake of breath, or maybe it was his own. He couldn’t be sure over the pounding in his ears. And then as if guided by instinct, his mouth started working again.

“...leave,” Harry finished in a near whisper.

The boy raised an eyebrow and donned his jacket. “Wow,” he said, sounding offended. “Rude much?”

The boy.

It was a _boy._

“You know, I expected better manners from the great Harry Potter,” he continued, brushing his brown bangs out of his eyes. “Typical celebrities.”

A _boy_.

It took Harry a while to come up with an appropriate reaction to this situation. Of course in hindsight, backing away frantically and hiding behind Blaise probably wasn’t it but it was the best he could come up with in these horrifying circumstances.

The boy frowned and cocked his head, eyeing Harry’s quick retreat with obvious annoyance. His brown eyes — _brown_ eyes and oh Merlin, Harry was going to pass out — drifted from Harry to Blaise.

“Is he okay?”

Blaise’s Slytherin training seemed to have deserted him. “You’re a bloke,” he blurted. He held himself stiffly but Harry could sense the slight tremble of his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if it was alarm or suppressed laughter.

The boy scoffed. “Good call,” he replied. “The name’s Skyler.”

“Blaise Zabini,” Blaise introduced himself. Unlike Harry, he at least, had recovered from the shock. His eyes darted from Harry’s panicked gaze to Skyler’s curious expression. “Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting...well, you.”

“Apparently, neither was he,” Skyler retorted, jerking his head in Harry’s direction. “Shame, really. He seemed pretty enthusiastic last night. Told me he was up for anything. Delivered for the most part, actually.”

Harry swallowed convulsively, trying to steady his racing pulse. He had brought a boy home. He had been in bed with a boy. A boy had _sucked him off_ and Harry had let him and…

“I’m going to faint,” he announced dazedly. “I am literally going to pass out on the floor right now.”

Skyler’s eyes narrowed. “That won’t be necessary,” he said coldly. “I’ll get out of your way and you can have your little meltdown in peace.”

“He means no offence,” Blaise placated. “We’re just...surprised.”

Skyler’s expression softened just a bit. “First time out of the closet?” he asked.

“Apparently,” Blaise agreed with a shrug. “I hate to be rude but…”

“I get it. I’ll leave now.”

“Of course. But a word before you leave? You’re obviously aware of my friend’s public... er, persona. You used the term ‘celebrity’, if I recall. Discretion would be advisable in these extenuating circumstances so…”

Skyler waved a dismissive hand. “I know how this works. I won’t tell a soul, Merlin’s honour.”

Blaise inclined his head. “Then we’re good. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Skyler smirked. “Ta, Harry.”

Harry just ducked his head, refusing to look him in the eye. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed in his head as the boy turned away and made for the door.

“Wait,” Blaise said suddenly. Skyler turned around, cocking his head enquiringly.

“Before you go, I have one last question. Do you know anything about the pineapple?”

Skyler frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me, mate. He had it when I met him.”

“I see. Thank you for your time.”

Skyler nodded and left, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. Harry let out a shuddering breath and slumped to the floor.

“I…”

He couldn’t find the words to express the deluge of panic swirling in his gut. Oh gods, what had he done? Skyler, apparently. How had this happened? How could he have...

Blaise patted his shoulder soothingly. “This is why you never abandon your wingman,” he intoned solemnly. The thin press of his mouth suggested that he was trying his damndest not to laugh.

Harry glared and shrugged his hand off. “What else could go wrong?” he mumbled, half to himself.

Blaise cocked his head and eyed Harry’s back. “Well…”

Harry’s spine stiffened and he turned to Blaise. “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Blaise replied, looking away swiftly.

“What. Is. It?” Harry intoned threateningly.

Blaise cleared his throat and took a few prudent steps back. “It’s just...you also have a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

**“What?!”**

 

****

 

Harry supposed this was a milestone of sorts. He was now, officially having the first of many, many life crises in Hermione and Ron’s new flat. It was a nice, homey little place, tucked away in Central London. As far as Harry was concerned, its best feature was that there was enough room for him to pace.

“...and that’s what happened last night,” he finished. The story had come spilling out of him the second he had barged in, and he was sure he had been talking nonstop for an hour now. There hadn’t been a single interruption. Blaise lounged on the sofa, peeling a grape as Harry rattled on and on. Hermione and Ron sat there in silence, staring at him as if he’d grown two heads. Now, as he finally winded down, the silence echoed in the flat. To Harry, it was almost deafening. He waited as his friends exchanged a cautious glance, waited for the verdict, for the barrage of questions and the drama and…

“So, did anyone figure out where the pineapple came from?” Ron enquired.

“That’s your question?” Blaise drawled, popping the grape in his mouth. “Ask him about the tattoo. That has me concerned on a number of levels.”

Harry stared, not entirely sure that he’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

As usual, it was Hermione who took charge. “Really, you two,” she scolded. “Is that all you care about? Harry’s distraught.”

Ron just rolled his eyes. “What, we’re seriously going to pretend we’re shocked?” he asked her. Hermione shrugged and Harry’s jaw dropped.

“What?” he squawked. “Are you serious? I slept with a bloke! How is that _not_ shocking?”

Ron folded his hands and regarded Harry carefully. “Mate,” he began cautiously. “Don’t freak out or anything but...well, it’s really not _that_ much of a surprise.”

“Thank you,” Blaise drawled.

“Will you stop?” Hermione hissed. “We may have had our suspicions but Harry has clearly just figured this out. Can’t you at least try to be supportive?”

“Wait,” Harry spoke up, staring incredulously from one not-at-all-surprised face to the next. “What ‘suspicions’?”

Hermione bit her lip and played with a strand of hair. “Now Harry, don’t be mad. It was just a theory but we may have noticed a few...things.”

“What _sort_ of things?”

“You did spend a lot of time in the Gryffindor Locker Room,” Ron contributed carefully. “Neville used to swear you were staring at him.”

Harry’s jaw dropped a few more inches. “I was not!” he all but screeched, waving his arms frantically. “You can’t seriously believe that I…”

“I didn’t,” Hermione placated, patting his hand.

Harry’s shoulders slumped as his ire deflated.

“But I did see you checking out Viktor Krum an awful lot.”

“What?!”

“Viktor noticed it too,” Hermione added. “And he was hardly observant.”

“Look, this is ridiculous. I was absolutely not, under _any_ circumstances…”

“Please,” Blaise scoffed. “All this denial is boring me. I’m just going to go for the kill, if that’s alright with everyone. Hey Harry, do you remember my good friend Draco Malfoy?”

“Malfoy!” Ron declared, throwing his arms in the air. “Of course!”

“Why didn’t _I_ think of Malfoy?” Hermione enquired with a puzzled frown. She sounded rather cross with herself for missing the obvious. “It was right _there_ and I picked Viktor Krum. Come on, Hermione. You’re better than _that!”_

“Oh my **god!** ” Harry practically howled. He could hardly believe it. He wasn’t sure he did. This whole conversation was bordering on lunacy. “Seriously? You think I was... _Malfoy?_ Seriously?”

“You stalked him all of Sixth Year,” Blaise countered smoothly. “And if you think you were stealthy about it, well let’s just say there’s a reason you’re not in Slytherin.”

If Harry could have strangled him, he would have. “First of all,” he growled. “I could have been in Slytherin, thank you very much. Second of all, I don’t deny I was stalking Malfoy but I had reasons. Reasons we have gone over so many times that this shouldn’t even be an argument!”

“Mate, we were _all_ suspicious of him,” Ron agreed. “But you got a bit…”

“What?” Harry hissed. “What did I ‘get’?”

“Obsessed,” Hermione mumbled.

Harry just stared in disbelief. He was literally speechless. There wasn’t a thing he could say to counter this. It was just so insane; he couldn’t even wrap his head around it. A hysterical laugh escaped him.

“So, that’s it then?” he demanded. “You’ve been making bets behind my back over whether I’m bent or not? Ron, I dated your _sister_ for a year!”

“Bisexual,” Blaise announced. “Totally called it.”

Harry was literally one step from hexing him, but Hermione wrapped a firm hand around his wrist. “We were not making bets,” she said patiently. “Honest, Harry. We’re your friends, remember? We just had a theory, that’s all.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have a theory!” Harry snapped. “I’m _not_ bent!”

“Why do you need to label it?” Ron asked. “So, you like boys. Or maybe you don’t and it was a onetime thing. Or maybe you like boys _and_ girls. It’s really not that big a deal, you know. Percy has a boyfriend, Bill’s married to a Veela, I don’t even _want_ to know what George and his ‘assistant’ Kyle get up to once they close the shop. It’s all good. Nobody cares.”

Harry shook his head helplessly. “But I _can’t_ be bent. Don’t you get it?” He cringed at the note of desperation in his voice. “I want a family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted and now…”

And now, that part of his hopes and dreams was going to pieces too. Why? Why had this happened to him?

Hermione’s hands were on his shoulders. She turned him around firmly, her brown eyes staring straight into his.

“Harry, you’re thinking too much. Just do what feels right and I promise, the rest will work out. It _will_. Can you just promise me you won’t hyperventilate about this? It hasn’t changed anything. Nothing important, at least.”

“We’ve been with you every step of the way,” Ron added. “We’re not going to stop now.”

“You’re still my wingman,” Blaise added with a careless shrug. “Hell, if I have to help you pull a bloke next time we’re out on the town — challenge accepted.”

Their firm acceptance gave him something to hold on to. Slowly, his panic subsided. Despite himself, Harry cracked a half smile. Once again, his friends were right by his side. Honestly, what would he do without them? Besides, they had a point. Maybe he was over thinking this. What were the chances he would ever meet Skyler again? Even in a small magical community, it was next to impossible. He probably wouldn’t even remember this in a few…

“So? Are you going to tell us anything about the guy?” Hermione prodded.

Of course. Harry rolled his eyes. “There isn’t anything to tell, really.”

But of course that wasn’t enough to satiate her curiosity. “At least tell me what he looked like. Was he fit?”

“Not really,” Harry replied.

“Very,” Blaise said, at the exact same moment.

He looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow. “Not really?” he repeated incredulously. “What are you, blind? I’m straight as an arrow and _I_ can say he looked bloody good in those denims. Seriously, kids dress nice these days.”

Harry stared at him and an incredulous laugh escaped him. “You thought he was fit?”

Blaise nodded. “Good looking bloke. And trust me, I’m something of an expert.”

Harry frowned, not entirely convinced. Skyler had struck him as pretty average. Then again, he had been too intent on avoiding direct eye contact with the man to make any astute observations. Of course, there was something to be said for the eyes — brown eyes, sharp and intense, long lashes. He was a bit young though, right? Couldn’t be more than nineteen or something. And he had curly brown hair that framed that boyish face perfectly. And he was a sharp dresser too, Blaise had a point about those denims. In fact, now that he thought about it Skyler’s arse had looked _really_ good in…

Right.

Harry cleared his throat and looked away pointedly. Blaise grinned ominously and Harry valiantly fought to keep the colour rising in his cheeks.

“You know,” Blaise drawled, checking his nails. “I took the liberty of checking up on him. He’s a barista at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley. You should look him up.”

Harry stiffened. “And why would I do that?” he demanded. No matter what his _very_ objective and detached opinions on the boy’s looks, he wasn’t about to ask him out. Harry wasn’t bent and he wasn’t about to go chasing after a younger man just because of an unfortunate one off.

Blaise just shrugged. “I thought you might like to apologise,” he said. “You _were_ rather rude this morning, you know.”

Oh. Well, that made sense.

“I... suppose I could do that.” Harry nodded slowly. Yeah, why not? “It’s the right thing to do, after all.”

Blaise just grinned and twirled his wand in his fingers.

“But of course.”

****

 

Harry swallowed as he stood outside the modest little establishment tucked in a quiet little bylane heading off Diagon Alley. He had been waffling out on the porch of _The Magic Bean_ for twenty minutes and it wasn’t getting any easier. Passers by were starting to stare curiously at him now. Harry ducked his head.

Maybe he should just leave. Who was to say that Skyler even wanted to see him after the way he had behaved? He should just leave the bloke alone and…

“For Merlin’s sake. Are you coming in or not?”

Harry jumped and nearly tripped over his feet. Skyler leaned against the door frame, arms crossed as he scrutinized Harry. His expression guarded and wary, but he held his ground.

“You can’t just stand there all day,” he informed Harry. “You’re creeping out all the customers.”

“I was hoping to talk to you,” Harry replied, thankfully keeping himself from stuttering and stumbling over his words. “If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Skyler’s eyes narrowed defensively. Harry suddenly felt like the greatest prat who ever lived. “Please?” he added softly.

“Fine,” Skyler muttered. “But you’re buying something first.”

Ten minutes later, Harry found himself deposited at a table in the back with a latte and a muffin in front of him, nervously waiting for Skyler to finish up with the few customers waiting in queue. Now and then, his eyes drifted back to the table. Harry had to fight not to squirm under that accusing gaze. An agonizing twenty minutes later, Skyler surrendered his spot at the counter to a young blonde and seated himself across from Harry.

“Look, if this is about last night I already said I won’t tell anyone,” he stated. “If you think I’m eager for people to know that Harry Potter kicked me to the curb, you’re mistaken.”

Harry cringed. He supposed he deserved that. “No,” he muttered, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “That’s not why I’m here. I came to apologise. I treated you horribly and I just...I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know.”

“Right. And I’m sorry. Again. And it wasn’t about your...your lifestyle or anything. I don’t...I’m not like that.”

Skyler’s lips quirked. “Let me guess. Some of your best friends are gay.”

“Well, no, but...”

Skyler cut him off with an amused laugh. He reached out and nicked a bit of Harry’s muffin. “I didn’t have lunch,” he explained, popping the crumb into his mouth. Harry’s eyes lingered on his lips for a second and he looked away at once, studiously focusing on a coffee ring on the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Skyler said. “It wasn’t the best send off I’ve ever had but I get where you’re coming from. It’s never easy coming out.”

“I’m not bent,” Harry told him.

Skyler shrugged and finished the rest of the muffin. “Well, if that’s all then I should get back to work. Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate it.” He dusted his hands off and stood.

“Wait!”

Skyler paused and turned around again. Harry swallowed slightly. “I...do you want to have dinner some time?” he asked. “I’d just really like to make it up to you, that’s all.”

“I see,” Skyler replied noncommittally. His lips twitched again. “Just as friends, I suppose?”

Harry nodded, a tad frantically. “ _Just_ friends,” he confirmed. “If that’s okay.”

Skyler smiled. “It’s okay. How does tomorrow at eight sound?”

It was a date.

 

****

 

That friendly dinner turned into a walk in the park. The walk turned into another dinner which then turned into a visit to the cinema. Harry found himself spending more and more time with Skyler.

Just as friends, of course. Skyler seemed content with that dynamic and never pushed for anything more, much to Harry’s relief. So, they met after work and just talked. Harry liked that part. Skyler was younger than his other friends, fresh out of school, working part time and saving for college. It was such an average state of affairs, so normal that it should have been boring to someone like Harry. But Skyler wasn’t boring. He was smart and interesting and he had a fresh perspective on things. It was refreshing. It was nice.

And then there was that whole other side of him. Skyler dated men. He was frank and open about his orientation and he answered all of Harry’s curious questions with an air of patient amusement. Once, he had even tricked Harry into accompany him to a gay bar in London. Harry had spent the evening perched on a barstool, wary and guarded. Skyler on the other hand, had gone straight to the dance floor. Harry watched him intently, telling himself that it was purely academic curiosity that prompted his incessant staring. Nothing else — and _especially_ not Skyler’s tight denims or his lean body moving sinuously under the strobe lights.

By the time a month had passed, Skyler was even hanging out with the group at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry got the sense that his friends were confused by his sudden presence, but they welcomed him anyway. Blaise as always, took the lead in conversation and things just went on from there.

“And last night was the lovely and surprisingly flexible Daphne Greengrass,” he announced triumphantly, wielding a quill and ticking off what looked suspiciously like a check list. “That’s it. I have officially shagged every bird in my year at Hogwarts.”

Hermione gave him a flat look and pointedly raised her hand. “Actually…”

“You don’t count,” Blaise cut in, waving her off impatiently. “Don’t ruin this for me, Granger.”

“It’s Granger Weasley,” Hermione replied. “And at least try to behave. We have company.”

She gave Skyler an apologetic nod. He just shrugged and raised his glass. “It’s okay. Harry warned me.”

Blaise obliged by flipping them the bird and the rest of the table laughed.  That lightened the mood a bit. Harry smiled, pleased by how well things were going. Skyler winked at him and he grinned back.

“So, Skyler _Flint_ ,” Ron spoke up suddenly. “You wouldn’t be related to Marcus Flint, would you?”

“He’s my second cousin twice removed. Or something,” Skyler explained.

“Ah,” Ron replied noncommittally. He looked less than happy with this new revelation.

“You can say it. He’s an arse.”

“ _Such_ an arse,” Ron agreed readily.

“Worst Quidditch Captain ever,” Blaise added. “We didn’t win a single match the whole Second Year.”

Skyler rolled his eyes. “We didn’t really associate much in our younger days, if you get my drift. Marcus was always _far_ too high up in the social order to bother with his sad, little halfblood cousin.”

“How come we never saw you at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked.

“I studied at Durmstrang. Moved back to England not too long ago. My folks figured it would be safer what with all the...excitement in this part of the world.”

Harry snorted. _Excitement_ was one way to describe it, he supposed.

“Although, I did whine about not getting to see Harry Potter in person for three whole years,” Skyler went on, grinning teasingly and nudging Harry in the ribs.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You didn’t miss much, believe me.”

“Agree to disagree,” Skyler replied smoothly. Harry tried not to blush at the subtle flirting. Skyler did that sometimes. He wasn’t sure if it was just playful teasing or a subtle hint, but he wasn’t sure if he should try and find out. Not yet, at least. Thankfully, Hermione started her barrage of curious questions again.

“So, you’re living by yourself?” she prodded again. She seemed the most interested and Harry wasn’t sure if he was grateful or a bit wary about it. Hermione’s interest in his social life was almost as bad as Blaise’s, although admittedly less dangerous.

“I have a flat not too far from Flourish and Blotts,” Skyler said. “I’m not exactly welcome at Flint Manor. But it’s not bad. I have my privacy. My flatmate’s hardly ever around, he moves around a lot. You might know him, actually. He’s from Hogwarts too.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked.

Skyler frowned thoughtfully. “He was in your year, I think. Do you know a...”

**“No!”**

Blaise’s cry of horror startled Skyler into spilling his drink. Harry jumped in his seat and Ron dropped a chicken wing in his lap. Blaise wasn’t interested. He was going over his checklist, frantically skimming it with an expression of dismay.

“The Ravenclaw Patil!” he moaned fretfully. “I forgot the twin!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” Hermione scolded, handing Skyler a wad of napkins. “Blaise, we’re in the middle of a conversa…”

“No time to chit chat!” Blaise snapped, surging to his feet. “My perfect score is in jeopardy! Oh wait, does it count if I shagged Parvati twice?”

“I still have four slaps left, you know,” Ron added conversationally.

“Got it. No shortcuts. Blaise out!”

“Aaand he’s gone,” Hermione sighed, as Blaise Disapparated with a sharp crack.

“Of course he is,” Ron grumbled, wiping himself off with a napkin. He straightened himself out and turned back to the table. “What were we talking about again?”

Hermione shrugged and Harry shook his head. The topic had been forgotten in Blaise’s customary chaos. “I’ll get the next round,” Skyler announced. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as he got up and left for the bar. Harry stayed at the table and eyed his friends cautiously, waiting for the inevitable.

“No,” he said firmly as soon as Hermione opened her mouth. “We’re just friends. And he’s too young. And I’m not bent.”

“He’s _not_ too young,” Hermione retorted impatiently. “Really, Harry. You talk like you’re in your thirties.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that. Sometimes, he did feel quite old. So much had happened in his life. There were times when he thought he had literally seen it all, and then something else happened that turned things upside down again. If nothing else, the sodding butterfly tattoo should be testament to the fact.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her firmly. “Even if I did find him attractive— hypothetically— and even if I _did_ hypothetically like spending time with him…”

“You’d hypothetically ask him out,” Ron finished. “Pass me another wing.”

Harry glared and turned to him, ready to argue but Hermione beat him to it. “Harry, give us a break, will you?” She shook her head, looking utterly exasperated. “All you ever talk about is finding The One. The One this, The One that. Well, here’s the thing. Maybe _that_ boy is The One and you just can’t see it because you’ve got this idea of how things should be. Did you ever consider that? Did you ever think that maybe, just _maybe_ life doesn’t always turn out the way we planned it?”

“But…”

“But _nothing_ , Harry! Life is unpredictable. It’s challenging and it’s about taking on those challenges and moving ahead. I should _not_ have to explain this to you, of all people.”

Harry blinked, a bit caught off guard by the force of her tirade. “Ron?” he mumbled finally, turning to his friend.

Ron looked sympathetic but he shrugged. “Ginny’s gone. She’s not coming back. I know you think if you wait around enough, she’ll return but that’s the size of it, Harry. Is Skyler the one you’re destined to be with? Probably not. But you’re not going to find out unless you do something about it.”

“That’s not really advice,” Harry said quietly.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Ron replied. “You’ve got to do this on your own. You’re a big boy now, Harry and you’ll do okay. We raised you right.”

Despite himself, Harry chuckled at that. His eyes drifted to the bar, Skyler caught his eye and smiled. Harry smiled back. They were right. He had to figure this out for himself.

“I think I’m going to talk to Skyler,” he said softly.

Hermione nodded and squeezed his hand. “Good luck.”

Harry got up and made his way over to the bar.

And that’s the story of how Harry Potter asked a boy out.

 

****

 

In some ways, it wasn’t as different and intimidating as he had imagined. For one thing, Ron was right. Nobody cared, no one even batted an eyelid as Harry officially ‘came out’ — which in the simplest terms meant letting Skyler put an arm around his waist in public. Of course, the _Prophet_ ran a story but then Puddlemere United’s Seeker was dismissed for use of illegal performance potions and suddenly there were much more newsworthy subjects to pursue. If there was one thing Harry had learnt over time in the magical world, it was that nothing — absolutely _nothing_ —even came close to Quidditch on the priorities list. All in all,  the outraged public was easily distracted and Harry’s giant personal milestone met with minimal fanfare. Just the way he wanted it.

In other ways, it was very, almost terrifyingly different. Skyler felt different, obviously. Lines and angles where curves should be, traces of stubble instead of soft, smooth skin. But perhaps the scariest part of it was how much it intrigued Harry. How much he _liked_ it. A small part of him still insisted that he liked girls and Skyler was just a phase but frankly, Harry was starting to suspect that he liked said girls just a little less than before. Skyler’s kisses were more assertive, his hands moved confidently, knowing just where to touch Harry, just _how_ to touch him.

And it was easier, too. Skyler was adventurous and willing to take the lead where Harry was hesitant. In this case, that was definitely a good thing. But he also reminded Harry a lot of Ginny. He talked fondly of saving up for University, studying abroad, seeing the world. It was all so reminiscent of his former relationship. So, Harry remained cautious. As much as he enjoyed the new experiences Skyler brought, he refused to make the same mistakes again. He was not going to get emotionally invested in something that was bound to end. He had learnt his lesson the hard way, but he _had_ learnt. This was fun and new and interesting, but it would definitely end some day. Harry was perfectly aware of that.

It happened at one of their dinner dates.

“So long story short, they might let us have a real simulator for training sessions.” Harry speared some pasta on his fork as he continued his story. “Of course, Dawlish would have to approve it first and he’s already throwing a hissy fit over the budget but…”

“Do you want to go back to my place?”

Harry promptly dropped his fork. It fell with a sharp clatter that was summarily ignored as he gaped at Skyler’s question. “What?”

Skyler leaned forward on the table. “I asked if you’d like to come to my flat tonight instead of just seeing me off at the door.”

Harry swallowed slightly. “It’s a bit...soon for that, don’t you think?” he asked haltingly. “We’ve only been on a few dates and...”

...and he wasn’t really sure he wanted to take things to the next level yet. Of course, he liked Skyler. He liked the kissing and the lingering touches and...he would be the first to admit that he wondered what it would be like to go further. But he wasn’t really ready for that yet, was he?

Skyler smiled and shook his head. “Harry, do I have to remind you that technically we’ve already seen each other naked?”

“That absolutely did not count,” Harry argued. “I was so drunk, I didn’t even…”

“Yes, I remember,” Skyler replied dryly. “Vividly. Believe me, there’s no need to elaborate.”

“Sorry.”

Skyler sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Harry, I’m not pushing for anything, okay? If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. End of story. I just think we should spend some alone time together. We always end up in public places but do we really ever spend time just by ourselves?”

They didn’t. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. In hindsight, he might have been avoiding spending alone time with Skyler. The truth was, it was nice and safe being out in public where things couldn’t go too far. They went to pubs and the cinema and even the clubs sometimes, but he had never invited Skyler to his flat or vice versa. Had he really been doing this? Had he been avoiding letting things get too serious with Skyler?

He realised that he had. And maybe it wasn’t just because of the gay thing. He did like the kissing, after all. No, it was something else. Maybe he just didn’t want it with...well, with _Skyler_. They just weren’t there yet. He wasn’t there yet with Skyler.

“Harry, it’s fine,” Skyler insisted, placing a hand over his. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. It’s just...honestly, it’s just sex.”

And that was just the thing. That was exactly what he didn’t want to do. He wanted something serious. Something real. Skyler was great but at the end of it, they weren’t _serious_. It would be like Ginny all over again.

“I just don’t think I’m ready yet,” he said finally.

Skyler sighed and withdrew his hand. “It’s fine,” he replied. “I thought as much.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Skyler told him. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Harry.”

They sat in silence and Harry absently batted a tomato around with his fork. He felt bad, like he had messed up somewhere. He had definitely hurt Skyler’s feelings in the process. By running away from this. And he still wasn’t ready for the real thing, but would he ever be if he never let anyone in?

“I’d still like to see your flat,” he heard himself saying.

Skyler looked up from his plate, his surprised expression giving way to a slight smile. “Are you sure?”

“I’d like to spend some time alone with you,” Harry said. “Even if it’s just hanging out. I really do like you.”

“I like you too, Harry,” Skyler grinned. “Let’s go then.”

Harry allowed himself to be guided outside. “And relax a little,” Skyler whispered. “My flatmate is around these days, so we won’t be able to do much anyway.”

They Apparated away and Harry refused to think about why that little bit of information left him with a sense of profound relief.

 

****

 

Skyler had a nice place, Harry noted. It was small but tasteful and definitely homey. He settled himself on the sofa as Skyler went about fixing the drinks. The faint noise of the shower sounded in the background. Skyler rolled his eyes. “Great, he’s hogging all the hot water again.”

The elusive flatmate, Harry presumed.

“Ron and I had a system when we lived together,” he offered with a grin. “Whoever used up all the hot water gave up telly privileges for a week.”

Skyler laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s not going to work with him. Besides, he’s hardly ever here. He just got back from Brussels a week ago and now he’s heading to Argentina, for some reason.”

Harry’s mouth twisted. “No place like Argentina,” he muttered. Honestly, why was it so popular? What was wrong with Brazil, for example? Or Spain?

Skyler just rolled his eyes. “Weirdo. That’s what I get for moving in with one of Marcus’s schoolmates.”

“Hey, we’re not all bad,” Harry protested with a teasing grin. “It’s not our fault your prat cousin went to Hogwarts.”

Skyler grinned and handed him a drink. “Well, I suppose that’s true,” he conceded, sitting down next to Harry and nudging his knee playfully. “You turned out alright, for instance.”

They laughed and Skyler leaned in for a kiss, which Harry allowed. It was pleasant and nice and the shower in the background actually made for a soothing atmosphere. Harry was starting to relax a bit, and then something on the table caught his attention. Harry pulled away from Skyler, instantly interested.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking the book up and flipping through it. He grinned happily as he recognized the cover. “You like Pablo Neruda?” Poetry was one of Harry’s guiltiest pleasures and that was something Blaise should never find out, ever. But really, what were the odds that Skyler would enjoy the works of a Muggle poet too?

“Not mine,” Skyler said, frowning at the book as if he’d never seen it before. “It must be his.”

Ah. Well, at least the bloke in the shower had good taste in books. Harry replaced it and looked around, searching for something else that might catch his interest. His gaze immediately focused on the orange poster on the wall.

“You’re a Cannons fan?” Harry asked eagerly. Now there’s a dying breed. He had been absolutely certain that he and Ron were the only ones left.

Skyler smiled and shook his head. “Gods, no. I don’t even like Quidditch. His again.”

Okay, wow. Two for two then. This was starting to get a bit…

“And what do you think of this?” Skyler enquired, pointing at something in the corner. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the bass guitar.

“No way,” he whispered, reaching over to check out the instrument. “You’re in a _band?_ Why have you never mentioned that? Merlin, that is…”

Skyler sighed and Harry groaned inwardly.

“...also his, isn’t it?” he asked uncomfortably.

“He plays bass,” Skyler explained. “Or at least he did the last time I checked. It’s hard to keep track.” His lips quirked and he shrugged. “I’m not really that into music.”

“That’s fine,” Harry offered immediately.

“Is it?” Skyler asked. He sounded amused. “Harry, you picked the only three things in this room that belong to my flatmate. What does that tell you? Apparently, you have more in common with someone you’ve never _met_ than with me.” He laughed and shook his head. “Maybe I should introduce the two of you.”

“No, Skyler,” Harry protested. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? So we don’t have a lot in common. Why does that matter? We...”

“It’s not that,” Skyler cut in. “It’s just…you’ve been through so _much_ change lately, Harry. You got out of a serious relationship not too long ago. You’re dating a man, for Merlin’s sake. It has to be pretty overwhelming. And, put it anyway you like but the fact is we’ve known each other for a while now, and this is the first time you’ve ever come over to my flat. Face it. You don’t _really_ want to get close to me.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Harry argued weakly. “This is all just so new to me.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Skyler replied softly. “You don’t want me, you want a safe space while you come to terms with the changes in your life. I’m sorry, Harry, but I don’t think I can do that for you. I can’t be that bloke.”

Harry really wanted to say it wasn’t like that at all. That Skyler was wrong and they could be together and he wanted that. But he didn’t. He wanted someone who would sit by the fireplace and read Neruda with him, someone who would celebrate with him in the unlikely event that the Cannons ever won a match, someone who would want the same things as him and raise a family with him and _get_ him. And at this point, he didn’t care if it was a bloke or a girl. But it had to be special. It just _had_ to be all or nothing. That was the way he was and Skyler wasn’t all or nothing. He was just somewhere in the middle.

He just wasn’t The One.

And now Harry was going to be a royal prat to the poor bloke for the second time in a row.

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. It wasn’t…”

“You didn’t,” Skyler said, squeezing his arm gently. “It’s just not in the cards, that’s all. We had a good run, Harry. For what it’s worth, it was fun.”

Harry smiled softly. It was. It really was. “Thank you,” he replied. “For making this so easy.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. Just go figure yourself out. Maybe we’ll meet again. You know, some day.”

“I hope so. You take care.”

There wasn’t much else he could say. With a parting nod and a chaste kiss to the cheek, Harry turned to leave. The last thing he heard was the sound of the shower, still in the background and then he closed the door with a soft click and walked away.

 

****

 

Skyler sighed and flopped down on his sofa, absently Banishing Harry’s empty glass to the kitchen. Honestly, he had seen it coming. At the end of it, Harry just wasn’t that into him. He wasn’t thrilled about it but it wasn’t the worst feeling ever. Hell, at least he had been prepared for it...

“Skyler?”

The voice broke into his thoughts, startling him. Of course. He wasn’t alone in the flat. He’d forgotten his flatmate in the light of Harry’s departure.

“In here,” he called back. “You used up all the hot water again, didn’t you?”

Draco emerged from the shower, towelling his wet hair. “And then some,” he replied smugly. He looked around and frowned. “Was someone here? I thought I heard voices.”

“I brought a date home. It didn’t go so well.”

“Didn’t put out?” Draco smirked. Skyler growled and tossed a cushion at him. Draco was rather decent for one of Marcus’s old mates but Merlin, he could be a prat sometimes. “We broke up, I’ll have you know,” he informed said prat frostily. “And it was all your fault.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And what did I do?”

Skyler snorted. “Apparently, the two of you are soulmates. You even share the same taste in sappy Muggle literature and underperforming sports teams. Personally, I just find it astounding that you can actually complicate my love life straight from the comfort of your shower.”

“You leave the Cannons out of this,” Draco snapped defensively. “And ‘soulmates’? That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? I didn’t even meet the bloke.”

“Perhaps you should,” Skyler snapped sullenly. “You’re obviously perfect for each other.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Tempting as that is, I’ll take a raincheck. Argentina awaits and I have a Portkey that’s only good for the next twenty minutes.”

Skyler watched with mild interest as he shoved Neruda into a backpack. It always astounded him how Draco just took off for another country like he was taking a walk down the Alley. Honestly, his _hair_ was still wet. “You’re leaving tonight? I thought you’d stay for at least a week this time.”

Draco smirked and shook his head. “There’s not much keeping me here, Skyler. Or anywhere, really.”

Skyler refrained from pointing out that there never would be unless he stayed put somewhere for more than a few days at a time. It was hardly his place to say. “Why do you even pay rent when you’re not here half the time?” he asked instead.

“All my stuff is here,” Draco replied nonchalantly.

_And it gave him a reason to come back. To come home._

But that was something Skyler wasn’t going to say out loud either. It was one of those unspoken rules between flatmates. You stayed out of each other’s business. Besides, he had his own problems.

“Fine,” he sighed, lolling back on the sofa. “Do what you want. Send me a postcard.”

Draco laughed and picked up his Portkey. “See you in three months. Tell the soulmate I said hi.”

Skyler half considered lobbing a cushion at him again, but Draco disappeared with a cheerful wave.

“Tosser,” Skyler grumbled, glaring at his now flatmate free living room. Honestly, some days you just couldn’t win.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Oh, _come_ on!”

Scorpius threw his arms up in defeat, missing Al’s face by mere inches. “Really?” he demanded incredulously. _“Really?”_

Personally, James agreed with the sentiment. “Dad, no!” he moaned. “He was right there. Father was right _there!_ How could you miss it?”

Harry shrugged. “That’s how it goes, kids. If I knew then what I know now…”

“This story would be over,” Scorpius mumbled belligerently.

“Did anyone ever figure out where the pineapple came from?” Albus piped up. He bristled defensively as James gave him a flat look. “What? It’s a valid question.”

“All in good time,” Harry placated. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Skyler and I parted ways amicably and the year went on. Everything was going smoothly, and then of course, it all fell apart.”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 4 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry decided that it was time to take a break from the dating scene. Of course, Blaise still insisted on dragging him to every club in the city, but Harry managed to keep a low enough profile. For now at least, he was content to observe and come to terms with his new...interests.

And now that he was really looking, he had to admit he _was_ interested. Every once in a while, an attractive stranger would approach him, offer a drink or something. He declined politely but a part of him was eager to explore. It was freeing to know that he was getting his head around this. That he was finally moving on. But for once, he wasn’t in the mood to rush into anything. That certainly hadn’t worked in the past.

So, Harry took it easy. He went to work, passed training with flying colours and officially became a Junior Auror. He listened to Hermione gripe and groan about her job, finally lost patience and sat her down to look up the papers for other options. She was thinking about applying at a local Muggle pre-school and he thought it was a good idea. She’d make a fantastic teacher. He hung out with Ron and caught up on his friend’s life, learned that he and Hermione were finally trying to start a family. The thought of having a little nephew or niece to fuss over thrilled him, almost as much as the idea of a child of his own. And above all, he thwarted all of Blaise’s efforts to set him up with ‘this guy from work’. Yeah, that was not happening.

In his spare time, he read. He did some research, thought about his life choices, what would happen if he did eventually settle down with someone of the same gender. He still wanted a family, but he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that there were other ways of getting there.

“I just don’t know why I never considered adoption before,” he told his friends over drinks. Hermione smiled and Blaise groaned and thunked his head on the table as Harry browsed through the pamphlets he’d collected over the last three months. “I mean, look at all this literature. Do you have any idea how many children there are in need of a good home? The numbers are just…”

“Kill me,” Blaise whined. “This is my life now and I want one of you to end it.”

“Blaise, stop it. This is important,” Hermione chided. “Harry, I think it’s wonderful that you’re thinking about this. It’s amazing what a little perspective can do.”

Harry smiled. He had been so set on the idea of a family— in its most traditional sense— that he had forgotten the thing that mattered most. It wasn’t about making a baby, it was about _raising_ one. With someone you loved. Family could come from anywhere and anyone. And if he really thought about it, wasn’t his life proof of that? The Dursleys were his ‘real’ family and they had done nothing but make him miserable for years. But the others, the ones that really mattered to him— Sirius, the Weasleys, Hermione and even Blaise — those were the people he counted on. _They_ were his family. Why couldn’t he have that some day? Why _shouldn’t_ he?

“I think it’s brilliant,” Ron agreed. He smiled and squeezed Hermione’s hand. “We’re still hoping for one of our own, though. I mean, can you imagine a kid that’s a little bit of me and a little bit of Hermione? How _awesome_ would that kid be?”

Hermione laughed. “Maybe we should change our last name to Awesome, just to be safe. Mr and Mrs Awesome, what do you think?”

“Has a nice ring to it,” Ron grinned. “Hi, we’re the Awesomes. Have you met our son Totally and our daughter Freakin’?”

Harry chuckled and Blaise eyed them blankly. “ _This_ is my life now.” His eyes glinted with determination and he lifted his chin. “No. No, I do not accept this. I refuse to let this happen! We are young, attractive people and I am not going to sit around talking about babies all night. Why are we _doing_ this? We’re going to a club and we’re going now!”

“We’re not going to a club,” Harry replied.

“New plan! We’re going to get Harry laid!”

“Should’ve gone with the club,” Ron put in.

Blaise however, was on a roll. He clamped an arm around Harry and all but dragged him to the bar. Harry groaned and dragged his feet, but a determined Blaise was not so easily thwarted. They were at the bar in record time, with Harry glowering and Blaise subtly scanning the Leaky Cauldron for a suitable target. His hawk like gaze settled on an unsuspecting bartender. “You!” he announced, pointing dramatically at the poor bloke. “Have you met Harry?”

Harry moaned in dismay and tried to extricate himself from his vice like grip. “Blaise, don’t…”

The poor boy — Chad, Harry thought his name was — looked a bit caught in headlights. “Um, yes? You lot are here almost every night.”

“Brilliant,” Blaise grinned, pulling Harry over. “Be a good lad and get us a gin and tonic each. And then, I’ll go away and you two can get to know each other better. In fact, why don’t you give Harry here your Floo combination?”

“He’s _not_ going to give me his Floo combination,” Harry snapped. He shook his head and gave Chad an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. He’s just...well, we’re not really sure yet but the Healers are trying their best.”

Chad looked a bit alarmed. He nodded and hurried off, mumbling something about ‘easier ways to make a living’.

Blaise scowled at his retreating back. “Rude,” he huffed indignantly. “Well, it’s hardly an issue. That was just a warm up game. Don’t you worry, Harry. Your wingman’s on the case! We’re going to get you laid or so help me Merlin…”

“Blaise, stop it,” Harry snapped in exasperation. “You’re scaring people. Just because I like blokes doesn’t mean you can…”

“You _what?!”_

Harry whirled around and promptly dropped his glass. It shattered in a hundred pieces, and he barely even heard it.

Light brown eyes stared back at him, wide with shock. There was one word for the expression on Ginny’s face and it was aghast.

 _Shite._   

“Oh, hello Genevieve,” Blaise greeted cheerfully. “Or should I say _hola?_ ”

Ginny ignored him, her wide, frozen gaze still trained on Harry. Harry could have sworn he felt the air being leached out of the room. The tension settled on him, stifling and heavy. He barely noticed when Ron and Hermione approached, looking harried and concerned. He could only stare at Ginny like a deer in headlights.

“Hey Ginny,” Hermione began cautiously. “When did you…”

“Walk,” Ginny said sharply. Her voice was shaky and her hand tightened around Harry’s arm, pulling him forward. “Your flat. _Now._ ”

They left without another word. Ron and Hermione exchanged wary glances while Blaise cackled in delight. “Oh, he’s a dead man,” he chortled. “He is _so_ screwed I can’t even...”

**SLAP!**

Ron rubbed his stinging hand as Blaise went crashing to the floor. “That’s two,” he announced, calmly returning to his drink again.

 

****

 

To say that the walk back to Harry’s flat was tense would be a massive understatement. Ginny stared straight ahead as she stomped down the street purposefully, Harry following close behind. Neither said a word and Harry was actually beginning to hope that they’d be able to get through this without turning it into a screaming match.

He was firmly disabused of this optimistic notion when Ginny barged in, slammed the door shut and turned on him.

“So you’re _gay_ now?!”

“So you’re back now?” Harry belted back. He cringed almost instantly as a flash of hurt flitted over Ginny’s face. But then her eyes glinted with anger and it was gone.

“It seems a lot changed while I was gone,” she said coldly.

Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell at her. “No, you think?”

Ginny seemed at a total loss for words. She opened her mouth, shut it, shook her head and rounded up on him again. “Please tell me it’s just a phase,” she said finally. “Tell me you’re not actually _serious_ about men.”

That undertone of shock in her voice made him angry. Really? She just showed up after six bloody months and she had the gall to question _him?_

“It’s not a phase,” he replied coolly. “I’m just figuring out some things and apparently, this is one of them. Thanks for the show of tolerance, though. Real classy, Gin. That’s some solid 1920s stuff right there.”

“Oh, get off your ruddy soapbox!” she snapped. “I’m _not_ prejudiced. But I think I have the right to ask how the hell you suddenly decided you liked men the second I left!”

“The second you left? The _second_ you left?” He could feel his temper spiralling, the anger hazing his mind. “Try three months, Ginny! Three months of missing you and wanting you and wishing you’d come back! Try turning my whole world right side up again until it made _sense_ without you in it! You’ve been gone six months, do you realise that?! You didn’t even look back! What gives you the right to...”

“I did look back!” she screamed. “What do you think I’m doing here? I left everything and came back and...and now I find out that you’re bent and we’re **yelling in your apartment!** ”

“Well, maybe we **should!** ” Harry howled. He was well past rage now. He was livid. “We never really did this, did we? No, we had a civil, cordial break up with the kiss goodbye and the _let’s be friends_ and we left out all the other crap! Maybe we should pick up where we left off and get it out of our systems! So, this is me **yelling at you!** Because damn it, it’s long overdue!”

“Fine!”

**“Fine!”**

His ears were ringing as silence finally descended. Ginny was panting, her face was flushed and her eyes were still flashing. Harry’s head was pounding and his throat felt dry and parched.

She was here. Now that they weren’t yelling, he could actually process the fact that she was back, standing in front of him like she had never been gone. He had missed her so much and she still looked so beautiful to him. A part of him was still reeling at the thought. He thought he had closed this chapter of his life. But here, she was and it was like nothing had changed. But it had, hadn’t it? Everything was different now. He didn’t even realise that he was stepping back now, putting some distance between them. Ginny noticed though, and the look of hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. Harry groaned. This was so bloody confusing.

“Why are you here?” he asked finally. He didn’t really understand anything right now, but this he needed to know. “What made you come back?”

For a second, her eyes flickered.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Ginny’s flashback: Buenos Aires, Argentina** ~*~*~*~*~

 

_She hadn’t planned to end up at a party tonight. Actually, she wasn’t even sure how or when she’d ended up here. As far as Ginny recalled, she had planned to spend the night at her flat in Balvanera, going over the notes for tomorrow’s broadcast. Alone. But then, the thought of going back to her dingy little studio apartment had seemed so depressing. The city, on the other hand was alive._

_So, she took off._

_Mar del Plata was crowded tonight. Then again, it was always crowded. She didn’t even recall the name of the club she had stumbled into halfway through the night but as she danced to the pulse of the music and the flashing strobe lights, she didn’t care._

_It was better than nothing._

_And that, Ginny thought dazedly, was exactly what she had right now. Nothing._

_That wasn’t a bad thing. Not really. She loved being out on her own. She loved Buenos Aires with its smoky restaurants and winding streets. She loved the colour and the vibrancy and the energy, the way the city just sucked you in. She loved getting lost in the hum of adventure, and she wouldn’t give it up for the world. And if that meant giving up the life she had known to go after the unknown and the exciting, well that was fine. It was perfect. It was the dream._

_But there were other things no one really considers before they set out on their own. She had forgotten what it was like to get lost in the crowd and bright lights of a big city. How strange everything seems at first when people all around you speak a different language. How quiet the nights get without someone to talk to. There were no cosy pubs on streets she knew like the back of her hand. There was no Ron with his cheerful smile or Hermione with an answer for everything. No Blaise with his ridiculous schemes to pick up girls. No Harry to smile at her or kiss her or…_

_She downed a glass of...something and staggered back to the dance floor. Immediately, a pair of hands reached around her waist, sliding over her hips. She hissed her displeasure. Not this again. This was the third time she’d had to extricate herself from some arsehole who'd had too much to drink. She tried to squirm away_ _but the stranger’s grip just tightened. An unfamiliar, slurred voice was whispering in her ear now, talking about a ‘good time’ and ‘let’s get out of here, mina’. Her stomach flipped unpleasantly and her head was reeling, and then suddenly the hands were gone, roughly shoved away from her body by someone else._

_Ginny was pushed aside and she managed to steady herself against the wall. Wow, she **really** had a lot to drink. The whole place was a blur now, nothing but hazy lights and swirling colours. Somewhere she could even hear the sounds of an argument. She thought she might have something to do with that but she couldn’t remember. And she was so dizzy…_

_“ **Didn’t put anything in her drink,** my arse,” a sneering voice spat, somewhere from her...left, was it? “She’s not going anywhere with you.” A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. Against her better judgement, she allowed the stranger to herd her out. The grip on her shoulders tightened— not enough to hurt but firm, nonetheless. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”_

_The next thing she heard was the sound of waves. The sand felt soft beneath her feet. Ginny frowned. Why was she at the beach again? Oh, yes...Mar del Plata. That was where was was. Why was everything spinning? Who was she walking with? What was he saying to her? She was so tired..._

_“No,” her companion said, shaking her roughly. “Do **not** got to sleep. Weaslette, I’m serious! Stay awake. Eyes open. Come on, eyes on me now…”_

_She lolled against his shoulder, looking up at him with bleary, dazed eyes. Ruddy arsehole, shaking her so rudely. Ruddy **blond** arsehole..._

_“Go ‘way,” she mumbled, pushing at him. “Tired…wanna go home...”_

_“Damn it,” he cursed. “Okay, just...just sit here.”_

_She pouted as he gently set her down on the sand. This was **not** what she wanted. She didn’t want to be stuck on the beach with some stranger a thousand miles away from home. It was all so weird and different and everything was **wrong**. Her throat was tightening and her eyes were prickling. Why? Why was it all so wrong? Why couldn’t she just go home?_

_“You’re going to cry now, aren’t you?” he asked flatly._

_Ginny started sobbing. She hid her face in her hands and just wailed. She was tired and confused and so far from anyone she knew, anyone who cared about her and now she was bawling her lungs out in front of a complete stranger and…_

_“Seriously? This again? Can I just get through **one** trip without a girl bawling in bloody public? Is that too much to ask for?”_

_He sounded annoyed and she had no idea what he was talking about. It just confused her more, so Ginny cried harder. Then she felt gentle hands tugging her hands from her face. He crouched down in front of her, looking worried. Did he look familiar? She thought he did but everything was still blurry..._

_“Stay calm. I’ve only done this spell a few times so I need to concentrate.”_

_That was all the warning he gave her before taking out his wand. The spell hit her with considerable force, knocking the breath out of her. She gasped and coughed, eyes streaming. But by the time her vision cleared, she felt coherent again. Yes, it was definitely better. Not so fuzzy anymore and the ringing in her head had subsided. She looked up, intending to thank the stranger and promptly suffered another choking fit._

_Malfoy raised an eyebrow and pocketed his wand. “Ah, looks like it worked then. How are you, Weaslette?”_

_“M-malfoy?!”_

_Malfoy shook his head. “Is there a former Gryffindor in every country or am I just that lucky? Should I expect to run into Longbottom next?”_

_Ginny gaped, stunned into silence. There was literally no way that this could be happening. She was in Argentina, for Merlin’s sake! Apparently, so was Malfoy. Because sometimes, life just couldn’t get worse on its own..._

_Suddenly, she remembered that Malfoy had cast a spell on her. “What did you do to me?” she demanded, checking herself over. Oh Merlin, she really **was** losing it. Letting Malfoy anywhere near her with a wand…if she had lost her eyebrows or something, the git was going to pay!_

_Malfoy didn’t seem particularly offended. “It doesn’t really have a name,” he replied. “Sort of a thought clearing charm, I guess. Think, opposite of Confundo. I’m still working out the kinks but it’s good for a hangover.”_

_“Why on earth would you make up a spell like that?”_

_“I’ve been friends with Blaise a long time.”_

_Well, that explained it. Ginny sighed and flopped down on the sand, vaguely surprised that Malfoy was doing the same next to her. They listened to the waves breaking against the shore. Ginny fidgeted, feeling compelled to say something to fill the silence._

_“Thanks,” she muttered reluctantly. “For helping me out.”_

_Malfoy waved her off and closed his eyes. “I’m used to it,” he drawled. “By the way, did Granger make it home okay?”_

_Ginny frowned. “Yes,” she replied warily. “How did you know she was away in the first place?”_

_Malfoy opened his mouth to reply. Then he shook his head and shrugged. “I keep in touch with Blaise,” he replied. “He talks about you people a lot **.** It’s very unsettling.”_

_“Huh.” She wasn’t sure she believed that, but it probably wasn’t that important. The thought of Blaise and his charming grin reminded her of home. Her throat clenched again. “I wonder what he’s doing right now.”_

_“Probably telling some poor, unsuspecting girl about the time he singlehandedly saved a herd of unicorns from a forest fire.”_

_Ginny laughed. That did sound like Blaise. She could just see him making that play on some girl at the Leaky. With Mione rolling her eyes, and Ron and Harry making bets on how long it would take for him to get a drink in the face..._

_Her smile faded as she thought of Harry. What was he doing right now? Did he still think about her? Was he...was he with someone else now? Maybe a nice girl who wanted a family and wasn’t stupid enough to let a guy like Harry Potter slip through her fingers?_

_For some reason, the thought made her eyes prickle painfully. Malfoy turned his head to look at her intently and she promptly averted her gaze. Mercifully, he didn’t bring it up again._

_“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject. “What brings you to this part of the world?”_

_Malfoy chuckled mirthlessly. “Depends on who you ask,” he drawled. “My editor thinks I’m writing an exposé on the illegal potions market in South America. My band thinks I’m ‘finding myself’ and my father thinks I’m wasting my time. Between you and me, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here.”_

_Ginny blinked. Did he say band?_

_“You’ve been busy,” she managed. “How long have you been travelling around?”_

_“About four years,” he replied quietly. He didn’t sound particularly happy about it. If she didn’t know better, she would think the look in his eyes was almost...wistful._

_“Must be exciting,” she suggested carefully. “Open roads, adventure, excitement. That’s the dream.”_

_He smiled, and this time she could tell it was bitter. “It’s wonderful,” he replied tonelessly, gazing out at the ocean. “Just fan-bloody-tastic.” He stiffened suddenly, as if realising just who he was talking to. “What about you?” he asked, almost accusingly. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”_

_Ginny pursed her lips. If he wasn’t going to share, she didn’t see why she should. “I needed a change of scenery,” she replied tersely._

_“Interesting. I could have sworn you were wailing about wanting to go home ten minutes ago.”_

_And he was back to being Malfoy again. It was nice to know some things didn’t change. Ginny stiffened defensively. “There’s no need to be an arse about it,” she informed him. “Also, I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”_

_“You made it my business when I had to rescue you from Merlin-knows-what tonight.” He turned to her again, and his speculative expression suggested that he knew what she was going through. It was an unsettling thought. “It’s getting that bad, is it?”_

_“What are you talking about?” she snapped._

_“You said it wasn’t any of my business, remember?”_

_He looked so smug that she had half a mind to show him some spells of her own making. “Fine,” she gritted out. “So maybe I was a bit upset. It just gets lonely sometimes.”_

_“A ‘bit’. Okay, sure. Whatever you say, Weaslette.”_

_And now she was starting to see red. “You know, you’re really an arse sometimes, Malfoy.”_

_“And yet, you’re still here,” he replied smoothly. “All that adventure, all those open roads and you’re hanging out on the beach with the last person you’d like to see under any other circumstances. It seems to me that you’re more than just lonely. You’re lost, and I just happen to be the closest thing to home you’ve seen in a long time.”_

_When the hell did Malfoy get this insightful? “And you’re not doing the exact same thing?” she snapped._

_“Of course I am. But at least I admit it.”_

_Was this what it was like? If she didn’t stop running, would she end up like Malfoy? Lost and drifting, with nowhere to call home? No, she didn’t believe that. She couldn’t believe that. Maybe that’s the way Malfoy saw it but..._

_“I don’t want to get stuck,” she whispered. “Things were getting so serious with Harry and he wants a family and...we said we’d do this together but then he didn’t want to so I left. We just want such different things and...I miss him but what if I get stuck? What if I end up just raising kids? I don’t **want** to lose my independence. I don’t want to lose...me.”_

_“And there’s the difference between you and me,” Malfoy drawled. “You still have something left to lose.”_

_No, she didn’t. She had nothing now. She had given up everything for this. “It is what it is. I can’t get stuck in a relationship. I just can’t.”_

_“Gods, what **is** it with you Gryffindors?” Malfoy groaned. “Why is everything so ‘all or nothing’ with you people? It’s not a test, you know. There’s no right or wrong choice. It’s just...god, it’s **life** and for some reason, you lot insist on living just half of it.”_

_“It’s not that simple...”_

_“Oh, are we talking about ‘simple’ now?” Malfoy laughed shakily. There was no humour in it. “Let’s do that. So you flit from place to place because you’re afraid of ‘getting stuck’. But here’s the thing— you get to go **home** if you mess up. Even if you never want to, the point is it’s there **.** Want to know why I’m here? I’m here because I don’t get that choice. Ex Death Eater. Failure. Family disgrace. Take your pick. I **don’t** get to go home. So please, don’t talk to me about ‘simple’ when you actually have the privilege of choosing. You spoilt, entitled brat.”_

_Ginny stared at him, a bit shell shocked. The sheer irony of being called a ‘spoilt, entitled brat’ by Draco Malfoy — what can you even say after something like that? So she just sat there, watching him as he looked out into the distance._

_“Go home, Ginevra,” Malfoy sighed wearily. He was looking at the ocean again. “The open road is better when you’ve got someone taking it with you, trust me. You have no idea how lucky you are.”_

_He sounded so tired all of a sudden. So resigned. It made her insides twist. She didn’t think twice before reaching out and squeezing his hand. Malfoy stiffened but he didn’t pull away._

_“We all get to go home, Malfoy,” she told him. She thought she meant it._

_“I don’t.”_

_“I think you’re wrong. I think if you stopped running and actually looked back, you’d be surprised. But you’re scared to find out, so you just keep running instead.”_

_Just like her._

_Ginny could have laughed. To think she had to travel to the other end of the world to find something in common with Draco Malfoy. Sometimes, life was just plain mental._

_“I’m too far out to look back. If I did, I wouldn’t see anything worth coming back for.” Malfoy got up and dusted himself off. “Try not to make the same mistake, Weaslette. And don’t worry so much. If it’s adventure you want, I’m sure it will find you. Just one of the perks of being within ten feet of Potter.”_

_She let him haul her up. He looked...softer than she remembered. Not in any physical sense, no. He was still all lines and angles, with the sharp chin and high cheekbones. But his eyes were different. There was the slightest curve to his mouth, suggesting the hint of a smile. It was better, she decided. **He** was better. And for some reason, she was worried about him._

_“What are you going to do?” she asked._

_“I don’t know. Get an empanada, maybe?”_

_She rolled her eyes. “I meant about going home, Malfoy.”_

_“Oh, that. Maybe someday.”_

_He didn’t sound too convincing. Perhaps, it really was over for him. It was a sad thought. “Well, at least drop by some time,” she said finally. “I mean, it’s not all bad. Quidditch Season is still the best thing ever, even if the Cannons lose every single time.”_

_Malfoy grinned at that. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll come back to your neck of the woods for good...when The Cannons win the Cup.”_

_Great. Another Cannons fan. As if Ron and Harry weren’t enough. “So, that’s a ‘never’ then,” she replied dryly._

_Malfoy tutted disapprovingly.“Ye of little faith.”_

_Ginny laughed. “Now you sound like Harry._

_Her smile widened as Malfoy shuddered theatrically. “As good a time as any to take my leave,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Weaslette.”_

_He started walking away, leaving nothing but a pair of footprints in the sand. She watched in silence as the waves washed them away. Suddenly, she didn’t want him to fade away. Not like this._

_“When the Cannons win, Malfoy,” she called to his retreating back. “We made a deal!”_

_“Careful, Weaslette,” he called back. “Or I might start thinking you like having me around.”_

_Ginny rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”_

_Malfoy laughed. He waved a goodbye and Disapparated, leaving her alone on the shore._

_No, not alone. Ginny smiled to herself as she started the long way home._

 

~*~*~*~*~ **End of Flashback** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Ginny?”

Harry’s voice startled her and she blinked at him. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “What was the question again?”

Harry sighed and repeated himself. “I asked why you came back. What made you return home?”

“Does it matter?” Ginny demanded. “I just realised that all the things I thought I wanted aren’t good enough without...without the people I care most about.” She looked up at him, tears in her brown eyes. “I missed you so much, Harry.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to admit it but...

“I missed you too,” he whispered. “This has been hard, Ginny. I wish you’d stayed.”

“I’m here now.” Her hand reached out to touch his cheek. Harry resisted the urge to lean into that delicate touch. He had missed it. He had missed her voice and her smile. It had just hurt so damn much.

“Harry, I’m _back_ ,” she said fervently, almost frantically. “I missed you, I love you. Can’t we just...can’t we go back to being _us_ again?”

And Gods, wouldn’t that be the easiest thing? Wouldn’t it be just perfect to hold her close and kiss her and go back to being them? To get the Happily Ever After he wanted with her? It would be so easy. So perfect.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he said. “It’s all I’ve wanted for so long.”

“Oh, Harry…”

“But we can’t, Ginny.”

His heart sank as her hand dropped. Her eyes clouded over and filled with tears again. “What?” she whispered. _"Why?"_

“There’s no _us_ anymore,” Harry said heavily. “We can’t go back to the way things used to be.”

“But…”

“Ginny, we can’t just pretend you didn’t leave, that you didn’t go away. You had your reasons for it and the thing is, I’m not really sure they’ve changed.”

“Harry, don’t do this.” Her voice was trembling now and it made his heart break. Why couldn’t it be easier? Why couldn’t it be her? “A long time ago, you told me that you would do whatever it took, so long as we could be together. You told me we could do this my way. You told me that would never change. Well, I’m here now, Harry. I’m here and I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes, so long as we’re together. We can be together, Harry. We can have it all again.”

“You can’t promise that!” Harry snapped. “Don’t you remember how that story ended? You left and I couldn’t find it in myself to go with you. I _couldn’t_ do whatever it takes and I shouldn’t have promised I would. You shouldn’t either.”

“What are you saying?”

He sighed heavily. “I’m saying that I wish you hadn’t left, Ginny. No one would be happier than me if we could just go back. But things have changed. I think I’m finally starting to understand what I need. I don’t...I can’t live just half my life anymore. And I don’t want you to either. We can’t make each other happy and it’s time to face it.”

“Harry, no! It’s different now. I…”

“Ginny, just answer a question for me. Do you want to settle down and raise a family with me? Do you want that even a little bit? Can you bring yourself to _want_ those things for me? _With_ me?”

Her silence told him everything. “You don’t,” Harry muttered. His mouth twisted in a pained smile and he shook his head. “How can we be together when we don’t even want the same things?”

She swiped angrily at her eyes. “I once knew a boy who was willing to do whatever it took to be with me. I came back looking for that boy. But he’s not here anymore, is he Harry?”

“He changed,” Harry replied. “I can’t settle on this, Ginny. I want it too much. I’d like to think that after all this time, I deserve it. We both do.”

“I see.” Her voice was cold, toneless. It made something inside him clench painfully. This was it. This was goodbye.

“You’re still the best thing that ever happened to me, Ginny. I just can’t...I can’t love you anymore. It’s too late for us.”

She laughed shakily. “You’ve made that amply clear, Harry. Please, excuse me.”

He watched her retreating back helplessly as she turned away from him. The sound of the door slamming echoed in the silence of the flat. She was gone again, maybe for good. And this time, _he_ had pushed her away.


	3. Chapter 3

Things became tense and uncomfortable for Harry _—_ as they often did whenever Ginny was in the picture. Even Blaise didn’t have anything clever or inappropriate to say when those awkward silences descended at the bar.

Ginny refused to say more than two words to Harry. The tension between them was growing every day. She blamed him for not even trying to work things out, while he was firmly of the opinion that they had _already_ tried and it just wasn’t enough.

Meanwhile, poor Ron and Hermione were caught in the fray. It was hard for them not to take sides. Ron especially, sympathised with his sister’s point of view.

“When she was gone, you wanted her back more than anything,” he told Harry when they got a moment alone. “And now she’s back, and you’re backing out. Sorry, Harry. I just...I don’t understand. I want to, but I don’t.”

“Ron, try to see it my way, will you?” Harry implored desperately. “What am I going to do if she just up and decides to take off somewhere else again? Hell, what am I going to do if she stays and resents me for tying her down? Can’t you see it? We’d make each other miserable. It’s not enough and I just think we’re better off going our own way.”

Ron sighed and his shoulders slumped.  He looked pretty miserable himself. “Do you remember what I said when she first moved here? Four years ago? I told you it was a bad idea to start this whole thing in the first place. We _all_ told you that. You didn’t listen. You had this whole romantic idea about walking off into the sunset with her. And now look where we all are. You could have just listened to me then, you know. Maybe then…”

_Maybe then his sister wouldn’t be heartbroken. Maybe he wouldn’t have to choose between two people he cared about deeply._

He didn’t say as much but Harry could hear it in the heaviness of his voice. It hurt. “Sometimes love is not enough,” he replied quietly.

“No,” Ron muttered, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. Hermione taught me that. It’s not just about loving each other. You’ve got to be there, you’ve got to _want_ to be there for each other. You have to want to make sacrifices to keep each other happy, to keep the team going. You and Ginny never did figure that part out, did you? You were a great couple but a lousy team.”

Sometimes, Harry suspected that Ron was smarter than all of them together.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I really am.”

“Me too,” Ron sighed. “Just...I’ll see you later, yeah? It’s been a long day.”

Ron walked away from him that day, and Harry knew things had changed forever. Somehow, everyone had found their place and _he_ had been left behind. Ron and Hermione were still trying to have a baby and Ginny was taking up her old job at the WWN office and Harry was still where he had been, four years ago.

Sulking in the bar with Blaise.

“So what play should we run tonight?” Blaise drawled, eyeing a lithe brunette in the corner. “Ooh, how about the old famous Quidditch player from an obscure part of the world and his talent agent ploy? How good is your Romanian?”

“Or you could just talk to her,” Harry replied dryly. “You know, like a normal human being.”

Blaise scoffed. “See, now you’re starting to sound like my therapist. What’s the point of playing the game if you’re not going to ‘play the game’? Huh? You and Healer Bernstein get back to me on that one.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. At least he could always count on Blaise’s customary brand of mayhem to distract himself from his problems. “Can I ask you something? What do you plan to do if you actually _win_ the game? What if you find your one true love and...that’s it? Game over, here’s your trophy, go home. Because I think you might just self destruct or something.”

“Honestly,” Blaise grumbled. “Do you listen to me at all? No, don’t answer that. See here’s the thing, Harry. I’m not _like_ you. You’re all romantic and sappy and _oh, she’s the one_ and _oh, he’s the one._ No offence, but that is so _gay_.”

“Why is it that every time you say ‘no offence’ you end up being offensive?”

“Now me,” Blaise carried on without preamble. “I’m a hunter. I see a target and I go for it. If I employed your strategy...no wait, this calls for a demonstration.” He frowned and looked around. Before Harry could do or say anything, he was approaching the brunette.

Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh or wince in sympathy for the poor girl as Blaise took her hand. “You,” he intoned solemnly, looking deep in her eyes, “are the love of my life. Everything I have and everything I am from this day forward is yours. For the rest of my days.”

“Oh,” the girl gasped, practically swooning in his arms. “That is so…”

“Easy, sweetheart. I was just making a point,” Blaise drawled. She huffed and shoved him off and he returned to Harry’s side, grinning smugly. “See? Too damn easy. The game is fun and _awesome_ and…”

“Pointless?”

“Yes,” Blaise conceded. “But so is life. Now, are you getting the next round or not?”

Harry shook his head and placed an order at the bar. As he clinked glasses with Blaise and helped him scope out a more acquiescent companion, he decided that it wasn’t so bad. At least he would always have one bloke in his corner. Even if he was barking mad and morally reprehensible. Details, details...

“The usual?”

Harry turned and raised an eyebrow as Chad the bartender approached with a shy smile. He handed over the drinks and a scrap of parchment with his owl address on it.

Harry grinned back. No, not so bad at all.

 

****

**A few days later...**

 

Ron scowled as he skimmed the _Prophet._ “The Cannons lost to the Falcons. _Again_ ,” he whined miserably. “Final score, 200 to nothing! Why Galvin Gudgeon, _why?_ ”

“I could have told you that without reading the paper,” Ginny teased. She grinned as Ron groaned and slumped forward, thunking his head against the table.

“They’re never going to win,” he grumbled sullenly. “I should just switch to Puddlemere.”

“Oh, you never know,” Ginny smirked, buttering a slice of toast. “Maybe someday.”

 _Fingers crossed, anyway._ She wondered if Malfoy was still in Buenos Aires...

“So, how’s work?” Ron asked suddenly. “You’re settling in alright?”

“It’s okay,” Ginny replied between mouthfuls of toast. “It’s nice to be back on the home front. I was getting tired of everyone speaking Spanish all the time.”

Ron smiled and wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re home,” he told her sincerely. “I missed you.”

Ginny smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. “And I missed you, Ronniekins. A lot.”

They sat in that comfortable silence that only siblings ever seem to manage. Ginny smiled and leaned on his shoulder. It was nice being home. It would still be a while before she and Harry managed to be in the same room together, but at least she had her brother and Hermione. At the end of it, you could always count on family. You could always count on coming home...

Just then, Hermione emerged from the bedroom. Ron sat up expectantly but she shook her head. “Blue again,” she sighed.

“Great,” Ron sighed. “More good news.”

“What’s blue?” Ginny enquired curiously.

Hermione sat next to Ron, leaning into his chest. Ginny couldn’t help but notice how his arms wrapped around her instinctively, offering comfort. A part of her wondered if she and Harry had ever had such a comfortable relationship. Honestly, she couldn’t really remember…

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asked again. They both looked so downcast. She was starting to feel concerned.

“It’s a spell,” Ron explained heavily. “For...you know…”

“The Healers got sick of me coming in every week for new tests,” Hermione supplied, as her husband trailed off uncomfortably. “So, I did a little reading and found a spell.” She pulled out her wand and pointed it at her stomach, murmuring an incantation to soft for Ginny to hear. A shimmering blue orb floated out from the end of Hermione’s wand, hovering over her.

“Let me guess,” Ginny said. “Blue means no baby yet.”

Hermione smiled wistfully. “We were hoping for red,” she replied. Her eyes met Ron’s and she squeezed his hand. “We’ve been hoping for a long time.”

Honestly. Ginny rolled her eyes. “Look, don’t make a big deal of it,” she told them firmly. “You’re going to have kids. You two have _parents_ written all over you. Just try to be patient and focus on other stuff. It will happen when it happens.”

“And you’re the baby expert now?” Ron teased. “What are you going to do when you see your new nephew or niece? Run away screaming or cower in a corner?”

Hermione laughed and Ginny punched his shoulder. “I am not _afraid_ of babies,” she informed him. “And I’ll have you know that I’ll adore my nephew or niece on general principle. I love Victoire, don’t I?”

“You see Vicky once a year,” Ron grinned. “And let’s not forget the Babysitting Disaster of 2004.”

“The kid was babbling in French!” Ginny protested. “How was I supposed to know who _Monsieur Smokey_ is?”

Ron burst into laughter and Ginny threw another cushion at him. It had taken hours to convince little Vicky that Aunt Ginny hadn’t meant to forget her precious stuffed dragon at the park. Ron still found it hilarious, the prat.

“Face it, little sister,” Ron grinned. “You’re just not good with kids.”

“Shockingly, I think I can live with that,” Ginny replied flatly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

“Join us for dinner?” Hermione asked hopefully. “It’s movie night.”

Movie night. Ginny’s smile faltered a bit. It had been a tradition for so long. Their little group, curled up on the sofa every Thursday (since Blaise threw a tantrum if they didn’t all go out on Friday night) watching a slew of awful films. Ron and Hermione would take one end of the sofa, she and Harry would settle on the other end and Blaise would whine about being relegated to the floor. He never missed one though. None of them had. It was one of those unspoken rules in their little group.

But things were different now. It would probably end up with her and Harry on opposite ends of the room, avoiding conversation and tripping over what to say to each other. Nobody needed that.

“I think I’ll pass,” she replied. “You guys have fun. Tell Harry I said hi.”

She turned and left before they could protest, but she didn’t miss the look of disappointment on Hermione’s face. It hurt to be left out but it was for the best. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Harry and Ron didn’t hang out much anymore, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think that she had absolutely nothing to do with that happy state of affairs. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him yet but the fact remained that they shared the same friends. They would just have to work around it and if that meant missing movie night once in a while, fine. She could live with that.

So, that left her evening free. Ginny sighed as she nudged open the door to her own flat and promptly headed for the telly.

A flick of the remote revealed that nothing even remotely interesting was on. Finally, she settled on a Spanish soap opera. Ginny grinned to herself. These shows had become something of a guilty pleasure during her lonely evenings in Buenos Aires. Apparently, they were pretty popular. She had definitely seen this one before...

Ooh, it was getting pretty dramatic. Ginny leaned forward in anticipation as the shapely woman on the screen burst into tears. Her boyfriend or lover or whoever he was made a dramatic exit. Ginny tried in vain to follow the storyline. Something about a baby?

“Oh, perfect,” Ginny groaned. Yes, there was definitely a kid involved. The woman was cradling an infant now, smiling through her tears. Ginny made a face and changed the channel.

Really, _what_ was this obsession with babies? First Hermione, now Consuela...was there no escape?

She twirled her wand absently in her fingers as her mind drifted back to the spell Hermione had shown her. Ginny smiled slightly, wondering if she would be around when it turned red. Of course, there was always the chance that she'd be gone by the time it finally happened but it _would_ be nice to have a little one to coo over — so long as she didn’t get stuck changing diapers. The thought of Ron changing diapers made her giggle.

It was a random impulse. She wasn’t even sure why she did it. Perhaps she was curious. Or just bored. Whatever it was, the next moment she found herself casting Hermione’s spell on herself. Her wand sparked and she waited for the blue orb to hover over a stomach. Instead, Ginny frowned in confusion as she realised...

...there was nothing.

Ginny blinked. That was weird. She cast it again, waiting for the blue orb to show. Again, nothing. What in the world…? What was that supposed to mean? Okay, one more time. Something uneasy prickled the back of her neck as the blue stubbornly refused to show. Was she casting it wrong? No, she didn’t think so. But then, why wasn’t it blue? What was a _lack_ of light supposed to mean?

Was there...was there something wrong with her?

Ginny got up shakily and made her way to the Floo. “St. Mungo's,” she said firmly, trying to keep her voice from shaking a bit. No, she was being ridiculous. It was nothing. It was _probably_ nothing. She would find out soon enough...

“St Mungo’s front desk, can I help you?”

“Healer Bones, please,” Ginny replied. Her Healer would have some answers, she was quite sure of it.

“Please hold. I’ll put you through,” the Mediwitch replied.

Ginny waited impatiently as the image shifted. Susan Bones peered at her from the flames, looking concerned. “Oh hello, Ginny. What’s this about? I thought your regular check up was next…”

“I have a problem,” Ginny cut in. Quickly, she explained the situation. With every passing moment, Susan’s expression grew more and more concerned. Ginny’s pulse hammered and she had to resist the impulse to scream at the woman and demand answers. Instead, she finished up the story as quickly as she could.

“Ginny, I’m going to have to move our appointment up a few days,” Susan finally announced. She was trying to sound gentle and reassuring. It wasn’t working. Ginny swallowed as Susan pursed her lips. “Can you come through right now?”

Ginny nodded shakily and stepped through the Floo.

 

****

**A week later…**

 

“No,” Blaise moaned. “No, Loki! Look behind you!”

“Blaise, for the last time. Loki is the bad guy,” Harry replied, suppressing a grin.  It always amused him how much Blaise enjoyed movie night, despite all his vehement protests.

“He’s not ‘the bad guy’,” Blaise informed him haughtily. He sounded rather offended on Loki’s behalf. “He’s misunderstood. Not everything is in black and white, Harry.”

Harry gave up and helped himself to some popcorn. Hermione nudged his shoulder. “How was your date with Chad?” she asked softly.

Harry shrugged. “Fine,” he replied. “He’s nice. But I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

_He’s got a talented mouth on him, though._

Harry suppressed a rather immature snicker. He doubted Hermione would want to hear that.

“Big surprise,” Ron mumbled. He shook his head and went back to the film. “Come on, Stark! Take him down!”

“Ugh.” Blaise gave up and sprawled on the rug.

“You know,” Hermione told him. “There’s room on the sofa for one more.”

“No,” Blaise replied in a clipped tone. He didn’t even bother looking back. He just kept his eyes trained on the screen. “That’s Ginevra’s spot. I’m sure she’ll want it back when she joins us.”

The genial, comfortable atmosphere dissipated.

“She’s missed two movie nights in a row,” Ron sighed.

“I haven’t heard from her all week,” Hermione added quietly. “Have any of you?”

They shook their heads and Harry shifted uneasily. The comfortable atmosphere had all but disappeared in the wake of Blaise’s statement. That was happening a lot these days. They would hang out, having a perfectly nice time until someone would inadvertently bring up Ginny again. And then things would get awkward. Harry was getting a bit tired of it, really. He was fully aware that Ginny was skipping out on movie night so _he_ could be there. He had returned the favour by cutting out Sundays at The Burrow so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. It was starting to feel like joint custody and he was sick of it. Clearly, his friends were too.

“Well, I don’t know about you lot,” Blaise said firmly. “But I think she should be here. If I don’t get to miss this deplorable excuse for an evening, then she shouldn’t either.”

“It would be nice to have her back,” Hermione said. Her questioning eyes drifted to Harry. “I think we all miss her.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “We do.”

Ginny should be here.  She had always been here.He didn’t want lose his friends because of her, and he certainly didn’t want to lose _her_ as a friend. It was just too much history to walk away from. Maybe...maybe it was time to set this right. 

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go get her then.”

“Finally!” Blaise exclaimed happily. He got up and dusted himself off. “I’ll do the honours. No offence, Harry but she likes me better these days.”

“None taken,” Harry grinned, as he strode off for the Floo. 

Blaise gave him a parting nod and a wink, and stepped into the fireplace.

 

****

“Genevieve, you in here?”

Ginny started as the cheerful voice rang out, slamming her back to reality. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her head against the wall. She should have put the wards up when she had the chance. Now she would have to explain herself to Blaise of all people, and she wasn’t really sure she could do it. The test paper from St Mungo’s crumpled as her fist tightened. She refused to think about why she hadn’t put them down since Susan handed them over.

“Where are you?” Blaise sounded concerned now. He wasn’t going to give up and leave. He wasn’t built like that. But she could send him away.

Ginny took a deep breath and called out. “In here.”

Blaise padded over and poked his head in the door. “What are you doing here in the dark?” he demanded, approaching faster now. “Why is...Ginny, are you okay? Hey, talk to me.”

And say what? That she finally knew there _was_ something wrong with her? That a part of her had always known there was something missing? Her eyes prickled again and a small sob escaped her throat.

“Shite.”

She felt him crouching next to her, moving slowly as to not frighten her. A hysterical giggle threatened to escape her. Who knew Blaise could be that considerate?

“Look at me.” His voice was urgent now, worried and anxious. He tipped her chin up gently, his dark eyes trained on her. “What happened?” Blaise demanded urgently. “Tell me what’s wrong. We’ll fix it, I promise.”

“You can’t,” she said quickly, trying to pull away. Gods, Blaise shouldn’t have seen her like this. Now she would never hear the end of it.

“I can try,” he replied firmly. “I’ll admit this isn’t my area of expertise. I’m usually a lot more adept at being the _reason_ women cry. At least that’s what my mother always says and…”

“You’re rambling,” Ginny informed him.

“Is it helping?” His tone was half joking, half hopeful and despite all odds, it made her laugh a little. It was nice to know he cared. Odd, maybe. But sweet. Merlin knows she could use it right now...

“A bit,” she conceded. “I don’t feel like the most messed up person in the room anymore.”

Blaise chuckled. A deep laugh that seemed to reverberate through the room. That was nice too, Ginny thought. No wonder so many women jumped into bed with him…

“That’s what I like about you,” he told her, sounding almost fond. “Even when you’re wrecked, you’re feisty.”

“Thanks,” she retorted. “Most people think I should ‘tone down the sass’. At least that’s what Mum always says.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t _ever_ do that. _Never_ lose the spark. It’s brilliant.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that but Blaise wasn’t really looking for an answer. He just sat there with her, showing an uncharacteristic level of patience.

“You should go,” she mumbled, looking away again. “I’m fine, really.”

“Are you?” Blaise asked quietly. “Because you know you can always talk to me.”

Could she? She hadn’t really known they had that kind of relationship. Blaise was the boy who cooked up crazy schemes to pick up poor, deluded girls at bars. He was the boy she cheered on, the one she engaged in a well thought out plot with when the mood struck her. He was the one who shared her mischief. But was he her friend? She supposed they had become friends somewhere along the line. But that didn’t matter. She couldn’t talk to him about something he couldn’t understand. Hell, she didn’t understand it herself.

“I can’t have kids.”

Apparently, she was going to talk about it. Blaise stiffened next to her, mirroring her reaction. He turned to face her slowly, as if expecting her to get up and bolt. She didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath and handed him the test results. “I got them a few days ago,” she told him. “The Healer said something about ‘irregular hormone cycles’ and ‘three in a hundred women’...I wasn’t listening. The point is, I’m not going to have a kid. Ever.”

The papers fluttered from his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really am. But I thought…”

“That I never wanted kids?” Ginny managed a choked, bitter laugh. “I guess not. Doesn’t really explain why I’ve been crying about it for three days. I guess, it would have been nice to...to have the option.”

She was crying again. The more rational part of her was annoyed. Very annoyed, really because well...was this so terrible? Hadn’t she always said she wouldn’t tie herself down? She had been so determined, so outspoken about not wanting this, never wanting this.

Was that...was that why this had happened? Had the choice been taken from her _because_ in the end, deep down she knew she wasn’t good enough to be a mother? Was there just something missing inside her, something that couldn’t be fixed? Clearly, there was. It was right there in those test results scattered around the…

“No. No, you _can’t_ think like that.”

Ginny jumped slightly. She hadn’t even been aware that she was talking out loud. This was happening a lot tonight. And then just as suddenly, Blaise’s arms were around her at once, pressing her into his chest, running gently down her back. He held her carefully, as if she were something fragile. And that should annoy her, at least upset her. But it didn’t. Blaise knew she wasn’t some damsel in distress. He had told her that so many times. He, of all people, wouldn’t judge her for this. She pressed herself into his warmth, holding on to him for dear life.

“Gods, _why_ would you think that?” Blaise demanded, sounding anguished about it. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“You can’t _s-say_ that,” she sobbed, curling her fingers in his shirt. And suddenly, the words were mingling with her tears, flowing from her despite her best efforts to control them. How could he say that? There was something _wrong_ with her. There had to be. Why else would...maybe this was why she and Harry hadn’t worked out in the end. She couldn’t give him what he wanted, not in any sense of the word…

“No. No, that is _not_...damn it, Ginny! _Look_ at me!” He cupped her face in his hands, compelling her to meet his eyes.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “I don’t think I can take it. You’re the strongest, smartest, most fascinating woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing. There isn’t another one who compares and believe me, I’ve _looked_. You can’t make this your fault. Things happen. Sometimes, life...doesn’t turn out as planned. But never doubt for even a moment that you are _wonderful_. You are absolutely amazing and you deserve to have everything you desire.”

“But...”

“Ginny.”

He was so close now, his thumbs gently brushing the tears from her cheeks. His eyes were soft and the look in them was intense...she would swear up and down that she had never seen him look at another girl like that. And Blaise looked at a _lot_ of girls. He was only looking at her now, and she suspected that if the flat fell down to pieces around them right now, he probably wouldn’t notice. He wouldn’t stop looking at her.

“You never saw me before,” she whispered. Later, she would wonder why out of all thing things to say, that came to mind.

But Blaise just smiled. “I saw you the moment you walked into our lives,” he told her. “You’re just that beautiful.”

She kissed him. Oh, it was a bad idea. She knew it was. For a second, she even thought of Harry. But Harry wasn’t hers anymore, was he? They were done and now she could feel that chapter of her life close with absolute certainty. There would never be any going back. But Blaise was here. This boy who never had time to spare for any girl... _he_ was here, with her. He wanted her; he _chose_ to be here with her. Offering comfort and his presence and the friend she hadn’t known she needed. She didn’t want him to go. Not now. She needed him too much. So she kissed him, feeling his lips move against hers, his strong, warm hands slip to her waist and…

And then he pushed her away. “No,” he muttered. His voice sounded strangled, like the effort was genuinely painful. “That’s not what I was trying to…”

“I know,” she replied, trying to move in to his hold again. “I just want…”

“You don’t have to. I’ll stay with you anyway. It’s not...you’re more than that, you understand? I’m not trying to…”

“I _know_ ,” she told him again, firmer this time. “I know but I _want_ to.” It had been so long since someone had been there, made her feel safe...and if it was Blaise, then that was fine. All she knew was that he was here for _her_ and that was something she had missed.

“You don’t,” he snapped. His expression was guarded and wary, his tone was bitter. “You’re just...upset. Or something. I may be a bastard but I’ll be damned if I try to take advantage of _you_ like this and…”

He made a frustrated noise in his throat when she cut him off with another kiss. It was kind of endearing, and she couldn’t stop a smile when he pried her off again. “You never saw me before,” he repeated her words, sounding almost accusing.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning in again. “That’s my bad.”

This time, he didn’t pull away. It was hesitant and wary but eventually, that chaste kiss deepened into something else, something richer and more intense that she had ever experienced. His hands slid around her back, large and strong but strangely gentle. Ginny hummed in approval as those questing hands dipped lower, still cautious. He was still holding back, giving her what she needed and trying not to push her. He was being gentle with her. The thought made something inside her clench painfully. It was...different. Something new and strange and unexpected. But with Blaise holding her tenderly and kissing her and wanting her, she couldn’t bring herself to think of it as bad...

And then it all stopped.  Blaise faltered. He jerked away, violently this time. Ginny’s eyes fluttered in surprise and she looked up at him. His gaze was trained on the door…

“Shite,” he whispered.

Ginny turned around. She barely caught a glimpse of Harry’s furious expression and the grim, tight line of his mouth. Before she could so much as register how incredibly awful this looked, Harry sneered and slammed the door shut.

“Shite,” Ginny echoed. Oh gods. Oh Merlin, this was bad…

Blaise shouldered past her and walked away briskly, slamming the door as he left. Ginny stared after him, standing alone in her empty flat. When she finally managed to shuffle out and slump down on the sofa, she couldn’t say if hours had passed or mere minutes.

All she could think of was that she had seen something snap inside Harry in those brief two seconds. And she had a feeling that it was the last line holding all of them together.

 

****

 

Harry’s stomach roiled as he hurtled down the stairs, taking two at a time. There was a good chance he would trip and break his neck, but he didn’t really think he cared much. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, once he headed out of the building complex and into the street. All he knew was that he had to get _away_ , away from the sight of Blaise and Ginny wrapped around each other. His stomach turned again and his eyes prickled. He should have seen it coming, really. He should have known this would be what he would find when he went to check up on them. It was his own fault. This is what he got for being friends with a slippery, sleazy son of a bitch like…

“Harry! Damn it! Harry, wait!”

Harry whirled around and Blaise skidded to a halt, probably on pure instinct. He righted himself, still panting slightly as he held his hands out in a placating gesture. “It’s not what you think,” he blurted.

Harry laughed. It was a bitter laugh and it cut through him.  “So, what’s the score?” he asked. “Where does Ginny figure on your little black book? Or have you lost count? Hey Blaise, have you won the _game_ yet?”

Blaise flinched slightly. But then his eyes narrowed and he drew himself up. “It wasn’t like that,” he growled. “You don’t even know what…”

“One girl!” Harry snarled, unable to handle it any longer. “One girl, Blaise! That’s all you needed to stay away from but you couldn’t even do that, could you? Gods, can you even help yourself at this point?”

Blaise’s expression went from contrite to hurt to furious so quickly, Harry would have missed it if he had blinked. “What do you care?” he sneered. He looked so much like the arrogant entitled Slytherin he had known at Hogwarts that Harry almost punched him on general principle. “You’re done with her, remember? You can’t even be in the same room as her anymore! So why does it matter if I…”

“What? It’s your turn now? Is that how this works in your sick, twisted head?”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Blaise yelled, leaning in aggressively. “It wasn’t **like** that! We…”

“You know what? You’re right,” Harry broke in. “I _am_ done with Ginny. I don’t get a say in what happens in her life anymore. But that’s her and me. _You_ were different. You were supposed to be my friend! You were _not_ supposed to jump at the chance to shag my ex-girlfriend the second you could! This is what I get for trusting sodding Slytherins, isn’t it? You’re just…”

“Enough!” Blaise snarled. “Is that what this is then? I’m just the sleazy Slytherin who doesn’t have a worthy bone in his body? Is _that_ what I mean to you?”

“Well, you haven’t exactly proved otherwise, have you?” Harry yelled back. “With your schemes and your plans and your...your incessant need to shag everything that walks! Why Ginny? Why did you have to go after Ginny?”

“I didn’t go after anybody!” Blaise bellowed. “I was trying to be there for her! Not that you would understand what that means. You know what, Potter? You’re a shite friend. Yeah, I said it. You absolutely **suck at this!”**

They stared each other down, right there in the middle of the street. Harry looked into the dark, angry eyes of the man who had been his friend, of the man he had come to trust...he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Blaise would betray him. When he had opened that door, he had expected to find Blaise and Ginny hanging out or getting a few drinks or literally _anything_ except what he’d seen. Instead, the picture of Blaise snogging his ex was branded into his brain and the thought wasn’t...it wasn’t anger and jealousy as much as it was hurt. In the end, Blaise had left too.

“You know,” he said tonelessly. His voice sounded hoarse after all the yelling but he fought to speak, because he needed to say this. “I’ve seen you do a lot of stuff, a lot of _bad_ stuff to people. I always thought there was a limit. That _I_ was the limit. The thing is, Blaise — you’re a shite friend, too.”

“What are you saying?” Blaise asked. “You’re telling me you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“I’m saying I never want to see you again,” Harry replied coldly. “Good luck with Ginny. She’s better than you deserve.”

He walked away, uncomfortably aware of Blaise’s devastated gaze following him. Harry didn’t care. It was over. The last thread holding their friendship together had snapped and he didn’t think he had the strength to fix it anymore.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Well,” James quipped as Harry winded down. “That was depressing.”

“And long,” Lily mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Daddy, are you _ever_ going to meet Father?”

“Soon, Princess,” Harry smiled, kissing her head. “We’re almost there.”

“Lies,” Al mumbled under his breath. “Scandalous _lies_.”

“We’re almost done,” Harry repeated. He rolled his eyes as his sons exchanged unconvinced looks. “I _promise_. Besides, you’re going to want to hear what happens next...”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 5** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Really?” the wide eyed blonde gushed, biting her lip as she gazed at him shyly. “A secret agent? I didn’t know the Aurors had those.”

Blaise smiled thinly and returned to his drink. It had been a half-hearted play and he was frankly surprised that it had worked at all. He gazed down at the twenty something girl hanging on to his arm and decided that it was entirely possible they were getting dumber every day.

A few months back, this would have been a very good thing.

Blaise sighed. A few months back. Two to be exact. He had been flying solo ever since that little...altercation and he had to admit it wasn’t exactly working. A part of him still firmly believed that he was just rusty, that he just missed working with a wingman. But he was starting to suspect it was more than that.

He found himself missing the little group he had come to consider his friends. Oh, he didn’t _want_ to — not in the least — but evidently he had no choice in the matter. Time and again, his thoughts would drift back to those idle evenings in the bar when he wasn’t distracted by a pretty face. Movie night. Weasley griping about the Cannons, Hermione rolling her eyes at some of his admittedly more tasteless jokes, even Harry _—_ cheerful and accommodating—offering to spring for the next round, staying back once everyone departed, promising to see a sloshed Blaise home safely.

There it was. As much as he disliked the man at the moment, Blaise missed Harry, too.

And then there was Ginny. His hands clenched around his glass, trying to will away the thought of her. It was, as always unsuccessful. But why would that change now? She had been in his thoughts for years.

Of course he’d noticed her the moment she had walked into the bar all those years ago. A man would have to be blind to look past those eyes, that smile and the graceful curves of her figure. Even then, he had wanted her. But Harry had needed a shove in the right direction more than he needed an evening with a pretty girl and Blaise had gone with his instincts, literally shoving them at each other. When Harry had fallen head over heels for her, he ignored the slight twinge of disappointment in his gut and contented himself with being Harry’s wingman and her eccentric friend, nothing more. Even as he got to know her slowly over the years, he hid his fondness with cautiously feigned disinterest— side-stepping the serious conversations in favour of light banter, calling her ‘Jennifer’ or ‘Genevieve’ even though the name ‘Ginevra’ was all but branded in his head, committing himself to the general tomfoolery he had such a reputation for. And it had served him well. She never saw him. He kept his distance, refusing to be the one to come between her and Harry. He had precious few friends and he didn’t want to lose them.

Except that he had. In the end, he had lost himself in a moment with her, wanting to be the one— just this once— to offer her comfort and a safe place. He had forgotten that it wasn’t his place to offer those, and so had she. In the process, he'd lost her and Harry.

No, he hadn’t seen her since that night. She had called, still called actually, but he was determined to ignore her missives. He had messed up her life enough. She was better off without him. They all were. In the end, he always messed things up.

And now, here he was. Alone again. With a girl he could care less about because the only one that mattered, the only one who had ever been _more_ than a nice rack and a pair of legs deserved better than him. She had ruined him for other women with that one kiss and there was no going back from that. But there was no going back to her either. It was over…

“Um, hello?”

Blaise blinked as a hand waved in his face. His companion pouted, apparently miffed at being ignored. “Is there a problem?” she asked petulantly. “You haven’t listened to a word I said.”

“Annoying, isn’t it?”

Blaise froze as a new, familiar voice broke into conversation. He turned and suppressed an oath as his suspicions were confirmed. Daphne Greengrass glided over, sedate and lovely in her green dress. Her smile was bland and polite but the look in those blue eyes spoke of murder. Blaise took a step back on instinct as Daphne approached, crossing over into his personal space. 

“Hello, Blaise,” she purred. “My, but you’re a hard man to get hold of.”

“Do we know you?” the blond asked, slipping a possessive hand around Blaise’s arm.

Daphne didn’t even spare her a glance. “You don’t, honey,” she replied smoothly. “But he does. Now run along and let the grownups talk.”

“Hey! You can’t…”

“Go,” Blaise muttered, shrugging her off.

The girl stared at him incredulously before huffing and stomping off, leaving him in the snake pit. And if there was any Slytherin who did the house justice, it was Daphne Greengrass. Blaise vaguely wondered why shagging _all_ the girls in his year had seemed like such a good idea at the time...

“So,” Daphne stated without preamble. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

“You look well,” Blaise replied. In the event that she did plan to eviscerate him, flattering her could hardly hurt. “It’s been a while, yes? A year, I believe.”

Daphne smiled coldly and flipped her long, blond hair over one petite shoulder. “Fourteen months, to be exact. Your little New Year celebration, remember?”

Blaise cringed. He had been hoping she wouldn’t remember. They had both been rather drunk after all. “I _absolutely_ meant to call you…”

“Imagine my relief,” Daphne drawled. She looked like she was just about refraining from pulling her wand out. “I didn’t track you down to listen to your inane prattling, Zabini. I have something to discuss and it can’t wait. I suggest we take this somewhere private. Now _._ ”

Oh gods, she had ‘tracked him down’. Now he was sure he was going to die. He absently wondered if Harry would be the Auror in charge of his murder investigation. Blaise tried and failed to find a way around this situation. But there wasn’t. There was nothing to do but face the inevitable. So he nodded jerkily. “I know a little cafe down the…”

“Your flat,” Daphne demanded.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go somewhere with a little more class? Ambience? Witnesses?”

Daphne muttered under her breath and whirled around, leaving him no choice but to follow. Blaise sighed and trudged behind her.

This was not going to end well for him, he just knew it.

 

****

 

It didn’t. It didn’t end well at _all._

His hands shook slightly as he poured himself another drink. It went down quickly, just like the first two. Daphne sat across from him on one of the sofas, her expression unnervingly blank. She could have been commenting on the weather, for all the emotion she showed. Instead, she sipped leisurely at her wine as she finished dropping the proverbial bomb.

“She’s yours.”

Two little words that shook his world to its very foundations. Blaise swallowed and took another healthy swig of his drink. So, it had finally happened. A small, hysterical part of him wanted to laugh. Or scream like a banshee, he wasn’t quite sure yet. The panic spiralled inside him, threatening to unravel his carefully built existence. It took a while to stamp down the gut wrenching urge to pour another drink. No, he needed to be sober for this...

“You could have told me, Daphne,” he said finally, vaguely thankful that his voice wasn’t shaky or high-pitched. The last thing he needed right now was to show this woman weakness. “I would have helped.”

She laughed. It wasn’t derisive or contemptuous. She sounded genuinely amused at the prospect. Somehow, that hurt more. “Oh, Blaise,” Daphne sighed, shaking her head. “You always were good for a laugh.”

_To hell with appearances._

“I’m serious!” he barked angrily. “I could have done something if you’d had the courtesy to inform me that…”

“Excuse me for not wanting your continued presence in my life, Zabini,” Daphne snapped. “The last time I checked, you weren’t particularly keen on having me around, now were you?” She sighed and leaned back in her seat, looking tired all of a sudden. “This isn’t one of my finest moments, I’ll have you know. However, I find that I have no choice. You have to take her, Blaise. She’s your _daughter_.”

“A daughter I didn’t even know I had until two hours ago!” he growled, standing up abruptly. “Do you know what you’re asking of me, Daphne? What in Merlin’s name makes you think that I’m the right choice for…”

“You’re her father!” Daphne burst out angrily. “And I’d like to think that unsuited as you may be for the title, you’re a lot better than mine!”

That got his attention. Blaise stopped pacing and turned to her. “What about your…”

“He wants me to put her up for adoption,” she whispered. A slim frame trembled slightly. Her eyes welled up with tears and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking strangely vulnerable. Vaguely, it struck Blaise that this was probably the first time he had ever seen her show any kind of emotion. Daphne took a deep, shuddering breath and turned back to him.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through,” she said quietly. “Thank Merlin for Astoria and Mother, they’ve helped. But it’s getting harder, Blaise. Eventually, these things come out. People ask questions. I just don’t know how long I can keep her with me anymore. Father just wants her gone and... don’t you _understand?_ I don’t want to give her away to some stranger, thrown away like an unwanted plaything. I’ll never see her again. She’s mine! And she’s yours too.”

_Mine._

Blaise swallowed thickly. He had a daughter.

He had a child.

There was a child somewhere who would call _him_ Father.

The thought would be exhilarating to some— magical and wonderful, or so he had heard. To him, the feeling roiling in his stomach was nothing short of full blown panic.

He couldn’t do this. Him? A father? The man who made a sport of women. Who lied to them and left them and made another tally mark in his little black book. The man who played games and played people and was just so _wrong_ for this, it made his head spin. The idea was laughable. How in Merlin’s name could he raise a little girl? He would ruin her life, he knew it. One more woman he’d let down in somehow. What child deserved that? What child deserved _him?_

“She would be better off with strangers. At least they would raise her right,” he said bitterly. “Anyone but me, Daphne. You know it, I know it, and everyone else knows it. I’m sorry but I can’t do this. I can’t be a _father_. The child...”

“Danielle.”

He trailed off and Daphne smiled slightly. “Her name is Danielle,” she repeated. “Danielle Zabini. She has your eyes, you know.”

“Don’t,” he gritted out, clenching his fists. “Don’t do that.”

Gods, she really wasn’t pulling punches, was she?

“She has your eyes and your smile, I think. She laughs a lot. Her favourite toy is a stuffed Hippogriff that Tori gave her. Her favourite colour is red— I hope that’s just a phase. She’s five months old and smarter than most kids her age. She’s...”

“Stop it!” Blaise snarled. “Just fucking stop!”

He did not want to hear this. He couldn’t hear this!

“She’s a person!” Daphne screamed back. “You’re not going to walk away from her because you’re afraid! I won’t let you do that! _Not_ to my little girl. It’s time to grow up, Blaise. Step up, be a man and raise your daughter because damn it, if you don’t I _will_ find you and make you pay!”

“And what if I can’t?” he demanded. “What if I mess things up? I _always_ mess things up.”

Daphne sighed and got up from the sofa. Slim arms looped around him and Blaise sighed as he leaned into the hug, trying to draw strength from her. “You won’t mess up,” she told him. For a second, he almost believed her. “Not unless you walk away from her right now. She needs you. She needs her father.”

“I need time to think,” he replied. Years, probably. Perhaps decades. He didn’t have much time but he would take what he could. He needed to think about this. He needed to stop himself from going off the deep end in sheer panic.

Daphne sighed and let go. “I want your answer in a month,” she told him. “Oh, and take this. It might help.”

She slipped a photograph in his hand. Danielle’s, no doubt. He pocketed it without a glance. He couldn’t look. He just couldn’t...it was too much. He was too afraid.

“Goodbye, Blaise,” Daphne said softly. “Let me know when you come to a decision.”

And then she was gone, leaving him standing there with the world crashing down around him. Blaise shuddered and headed to the bar. He poured himself a glass of scotch, staring at the amber liquid for Merlin knew how long. And then he set it down on the counter.

No, he didn’t need this right now. What he needed was someone to talk to. Someone sensible and supportive...someone like Hermione, maybe. Or Ron. Or Harry. But they weren’t there anymore. He had messed that up too. He was alone in this. All alone with no one to help him.

No. He straightened up as the thought occurred to him. Not alone. Not yet, at least. There _was_ someone else he could speak to. He steadied himself and picked up a pinch of Floo Powder. Gods, he hoped he remembered Draco’s latest address…

The flames flickered and turned green. Blaise’s panic receded slightly as a familiar face scowled at him from the fire.

“Really?” Draco groaned, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. “It’s 3 in the morning here. Did we not talk about time differences last...”

“I have a daughter.”

If he hadn’t been on the verge of tears himself, Draco’s shell shocked expression would have made him laugh. He seemed to have frozen mid conversation.

“A daughter,” Draco repeated slowly. He sounded suspicious. As if he expected Blaise to laugh and tell him it was a joke. Blaise really wished he could oblige him. Instead he just stared into the flames, watching as Draco’s eyes widened with the realisation that this was happening, this was _real_. Blaise swallowed thickly as the panic set in again.

“I fucked up, Draco,” he whispered, hating that his voice shook a bit. “I need help.”

“Shite, okay,” Draco cut in at once. He was frowning, clearly considering their options. Blaise was thankful. He really needed someone else to make decisions right now. Evidently, his sucked. Finally Draco nodded and turned back to Blaise. “How soon can you get here?”

“Now. Maybe sooner.” Blaise took a deep breath to steady himself. “Where’s ‘here’ again?”

“Mumbai. How does a trip to India strike your fancy?”

Blaise shook his head in exasperation. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask. I’m getting a Portkey. See you in two hours.”

“I’ll be here,” Draco replied with a terse nod. “And Blaise…”

Blaise turned and looked at him.

“We’ll figure it out. It’s going to be okay, mate.”

It wouldn’t. It would never be ‘okay’. Everything was going to change. But at least he had help. Blaise nodded and cut off the Floo line.

In an hour and forty five minutes, he was gone. The glass of scotch remained sitting there, on the counter.

 

****

**A week later…**

 

_And Jenkins makes a feint! He’s got Williams right where he wants him!_

Harry held his breath, hardly daring to believe it. Could it be? Was it even possible?

_Ooh, direct hit!_

“Oh Merlin, it’s happening,” he whispered to himself. His heart hammered as he leaned forward, trying to hear every hiss and crackle from his old Wizard Wireless Set. Another crackle and then the announcer was back again, talking nineteen to the dozen. Harry’s eyes widened and he all but pressed his ear to the device, straining to hear...

_Ladies and gentlemen, are you seeing this? I’m not sure I believe it! Puddlemere’s Seeker makes a dive, misses….ooh, nice try at the Wronski feint. He’s lost sight of the Snitch! But there’s Gudgeon, closing in! Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t...is this happening? It is! This is really happening! He sees the Snitch! He’s spotted it by the outpost! And he’s going for it! Williams is right on his heels…_

“Come on,” Harry whispered. “Come on, Gudgeon. Do it for the…”

_He’s got it! Ladies and gentlemen, Galvin Gudgeon caught the Snitch! I can’t believe it! **The Chudley Cannons win the Season!** They’re taking home the **League Cup!**_

“Yes!” Harry howled, thumping the table. “Bloody hell, **yes!** ”

_This is a historic day! A miracle, ladies and gents! The Cannons are taking home the Cup for the first time in over a hundred years! We’re witnessing history in the making…_

Harry laughed out incredulously, raising a triumphant fist in the air. They did it! The Cannons finally did it! All those years, _decades_ of making it to the semi finals and then crashing headfirst into failure but they had finally, finally rewarded his faith in them!

“Go Cannons!” Harry cheered. Gods, he wished Ron was around to...

“Potter, for Merlin’s sake,” Auror Robards hissed, poking his head in the break room. Harry grinned at him and gestured happily at the crackling wireless.

“The Cannons won!” he repeated excitedly.

Robards looked like he wanted to smile, but the quirk of his lips disappeared in favour of a stern frown. “Be that as it may, you should be back at your desk,” he warned. “You don’t want Dawlish throwing more paperwork at you, right?” He considered that and shook his head. “Actually, I take it back. With all the overtime you’ve been putting in, I’d think he’d just as soon put you on a mandatory leave of absence.”

“It’s not that bad,” Harry replied evasively. He knew Robards had a point, though. He had been putting in a lot of hours. It was easy when you didn’t have any friends to catch up with...

The older Auror just sighed and shook his head. “Go home, Harry. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you’d best sort it out. I’ve seen burnout before and it’s not pretty. Get some rest, see your friends, all that rot. The office will be here tomorrow.”

Harry nodded reluctantly. There was no point arguing. He wouldn’t put it past Robards to assign him mandatory leave after all. The office wasn’t much but at least he wouldn’t rattling around alone in his flat.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’m leaving.”

Robards gave him a small smile but he stayed where he was until Harry packed up his files and headed to the Floo. “Home, Potter,” he called. “That’s an order!”

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped into the Floo. Honestly, how had it come to this? Getting kicked out of the office for working too hard...there had been a time when Friday night meant excitement, mayhem and fun. But that had been when he was still friends with…

Harry shook himself as he landed in the living room of his own flat. He wasn’t going to think about Blaise. Blaise was an arse. He was unreliable and selfish and frankly, Harry couldn’t even remember why they had ever been friends in the first place.

Of course, _sometimes_ he still missed the bloke but then he remembered that night and he pushed it all away. He didn’t need Blaise. He had outgrown him and if it hurt a bit, so what? He would get used to it...

“Harry.”

He jumped and whirled around, wand at the ready. Ginny took a step back, holding her hands out.

“Whoa there, soldier,” she said dryly. “I come in peace.”

Harry sighed and pocketed the wand again. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on me,” he told her. “Old habits die hard.”

“I think we’ve _all_ learnt the importance of knocking these last few days,” she retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Harry scowled at her not so subtle reference and turned away. “Did you want something?”

“Actually, yes. I have some questions.” Her hand was on his shoulder now. She turned him around slowly. Harry sighed as worried, brown eyes stared at him. “How angry are you with me?” she asked carefully.

“I’m not angry with you,” Harry muttered. “I’m not angry with anyone.”

“Oh?” Her grip tightened, holding on tighter now. “Why are you avoiding us then? Why haven’t I seen you in a month? Why haven’t you returned any of my calls? All I ever hear is that you’re busy at the office or busy in the field or...”

“I’ve been working,” he snapped.

“Yeah? Because I think you’ve been avoiding me. And really, Harry, I understand that. But what about Ron and Mione? They haven’t seen you either and…”

“I met Ron at the bar last week!” Harry protested. Well, okay that was a bit of a stretch but...

“He said you took off and went back to the office!”

“I told you I’ve been busy…”

“No!” Ginny snapped, pointing an accusing finger in his face. Apparently, she had reached the limits of her very finite patience. “You do not get to use that excuse again! That’s what it is, an _excuse_. You don’t want to see me, fine. But I am not going to be the reason you walked away from all of us! We promised each other that wouldn’t happen, remember? We promised we wouldn’t hate each other if it didn’t work out! _You_ promised! Well, here I am and clearly, we _didn’t_ work out. So what are you going to do? Are you going to deal with this and stop being angry with me some day or are you just going to keep being a complete prat?!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Harry snapped. “I’ve just been bus- **ow!** ”

Harry yelped and shielded his head as she reached out to smack him. He wasn’t sure when they had gone from talking to arguing to Ginny actively trying to assault him but there he was, trying to fend off an angry redhead from disembowelling him.

“You are such a prat!” she screeched, punctuating each word with a hit.

“Ow!” Harry squawked. He might have flailed a bit too, not that it did any good. “Ginny, stop it!”

“Prat prat **prat!”** she shrilled angrily. “You haven’t even tried to be around! You just left! You’ve been so angry with me, and it’s driving me crazy! You don’t even know what happened, you jerk!”

“I told you I’m not angry with you!” Harry snapped. “I’m angry with Blaise!”

She stopped then. Her nails were still digging painfully into his shoulder, but he held still. Finally, she let go and stepped back, allowing him to sit up. Harry winced and rubbed his arm. “I’m angry with Blaise,” he repeated quietly. “He’s the one that crossed the line, not you. You and I were done with...with that part but _he_ still owed me something. He was my friend and he shouldn’t have...I just wish it wasn’t you.”

“Harry, do you even know what happened?” Ginny demanded. “Did you even _talk_ to Blaise?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Harry muttered. “I saw everything I needed to see.”

Ginny sighed and pulled him over, leading him to the sofa. “Sit,” she ordered. “We need to talk.”

 

****

 

Twenty minutes later, they were still sitting together in silence. Harry didn’t really know what this gut wrenching feeling inside him was, but he was pretty sure guilt had a lot to do with it.

“I’ve been a real jerk,” he said finally.

Ginny nodded slowly. “Yes,” she agreed. Harry winced, but then she smiled and nudged his shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there. Believe me, it wasn’t a lot of fun hearing about that Skyler bloke.”

Harry chuckled weakly. “I don’t even know what I was doing back then,” he sighed. “I think I was looking for something real to fill the gap. You know, when you left. Skyler was just...well, there.”

Ginny cocked her head and regarded him curiously. “You’ve changed a lot since we last talked to each other. I mean, _really_ talked. I feel like I don’t really know you anymore.”

“I feel like I don’t know _you_ anymore,” Harry muttered. “I wish we’d done this long ago. Talked about stuff, I mean. I meant what I said, Gin. You’ll always be important to me. But things happened so fast. And then we broke up and...”

“And now we’re just two friends getting back together,” she cut in. He smiled tentatively. He wouldn’t go as far as that. But it was nice to know that they would get there someday.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked suddenly. “About the...”

She looked faintly amused when he faltered. “You can say it, you know. I won’t ever have children.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied sincerely. “And I’m especially sorry that you had to go through that alone. How are you doing with that?”

She frowned as she considered that. “I don’t know. At first, I was shocked. And I was angry that it hurt so much because... well, you know kids just hadn’t figured in my plans until then. But the thought that I couldn’t _..._ that scared me. I was scared there was something wrong with me. Something broken.”

“You’re _not_...”

“I know,” she interrupted firmly. A rueful smile tugged at her lips. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about it. I figured that I’ll take things one step at a time from now on. Things just happen sometimes and we have to deal with them.”

“I’m just sorry you had to go through it alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” she replied. “Ron and Mione have been great. Mum keeps handing me adoption pamphlets...”

“I have a huge collection of those, if you’re interested,” Harry added.

She laughed and nudged him again. “One step at a time,” she repeated firmly. “Anyway the long and short of it is that I’ve had a lot of help from my family and my friends. _Especially_ my friends.”

Harry sighed and scrubbed a tired hand through his hair. “And that’s what Blaise was doing that night,” he finished. “He really was trying to be there for you.”

“He’s a good friend,” Ginny said quietly. “All things considered, he comes through.”

“Just a friend though?”

She smiled and shrugged. “For now. We didn’t plan this, you know.”

“I know.” He cringed as he remembered his last meeting with Blaise. “I didn’t even give him a chance. I was just so convinced he was being...well, Blaise. I should have tried harder.”

“That’s actually what I want to talk to you about.” Ginny sat up, looking rather worried all of a sudden. “Harry, Blaise is gone.”

“What?” Harry bolted up as well. “What do you mean gone?”

“I mean exactly what I said,” she replied impatiently. “Seriously, why do you do that? No one’s seen him for two months and well, I stopped at his flat the other day to see how he was doing. The place was empty. I...you don’t think something happened to him, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Harry shook his head firmly. “No, I don’t think so. Not Blaise. He probably just took off for a few days or something.”

“Harry.” She reached for his hand and her voice dropped to a quiet whisper. “He left his suits behind.”

Harry froze. His eyes widened in horror. “That’s the kind of thing you _start_ the story with!” he informed her. Oh, this was bad. He had only known Blaise to abandon his precious suits on two occasions and one of them involved a fire in his building. Harry got up to pace again. “Something must have happened to him. He would never have taken off like that unless it was some big.”

What if he was gone? And the last thing Harry had ever said to him was…

“No,” he declared firmly. “We _have_ to find him.”

“And what if we can’t?” Ginny asked quietly. “What if he’s gone for good?”

She looked so miserable at the thought. Harry gave her a rueful smile and pulled her into a hug. “You know, the Cannons won the League Cup today. And I got one of my best friends back. I’m thinking it’s a day for miracles.”

Ginny laughed into his shoulder and pulled away. “I guess it is,” she grinned. “Wait. Did you say the _Cannons_ won the Cup?”

Harry nodded and her grin widened just a little bit. “Interesting,” Ginny murmured. “I wonder if he’ll remember.”

“Who…”

She shook her head.  “Nothing. Just talking to myself. Let’s go, yeah? Ron and Mione will want to help…”

She started moving towards the Floo and Harry followed, still wondering what the slight smile on her face was all about.

 

****

**Mumbai: A week later…**

 

Until very recently, Blaise had had a very simplistic view of ‘the weather’. There was hot and there was cold. Occasionally, there was rainy. If you lived in London, rainy was less ‘occasional’ and more ‘every single time you needed to step out for a bit’. But there you had it. Hot, cold, rainy. Easy. Just like most of the women he’d pulled, self five.

But India had taken it upon herself to prove him wrong. The weather wasn’t ‘hot’. Oh no. There was _hot_ and then there was this sweltering, blazing, simmering assault that Mumbai bore witness to everyday — and if Blaise could think of any more adjectives to describe what this place chose to term as ‘everyday weather’, they would be added to the list with immediate effect.

The heat seemed to seep into the walls, into his skin and right down to his bones. If he listened carefully, he thought he could hear his insides snap and crackle like a box of Filibuster Fireworks.

That wasn’t even the best part.

Blaise was a man who enjoyed excitement. The thrill and action of a big city came naturally to him. Hell, he had survived London. But there was ‘busy’ and then there was bedlam. Chaos didn’t even begin to describe the streets.

From the balcony of Draco’s little flat in Andheri, he spotted a cyclist expertly swerve to avoid one of those oncoming yellow and black monstrosities that Draco called ‘rickshaws’. Apparently, they were a popular form of public transport. Blaise however, would just as soon jump into a Basilisk pit than sit in one of those contraptions. The Basilisks had to be more merciful, he was sure of it.

There was a certain charm to it though. Twenty one million people thriving on this small stretch of the coast, seemingly drawing off an unwavering spirit of the city itself. They took every day as a battle, fighting their way to their destinations and back again, untiring and indomitable. There was _life_ here. Standing still was an affront to the city and her people knew it. It was an unending cycle of people and their journeys and he felt a grudging respect for the brave souls who would go so far as to call this chaos ‘home’.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Draco grinned, coming over to stand next to him.

“I may never leave home again,” Blaise replied dryly. “Gods, it’s terrifying.”

Draco shook his head in amusement. “That’s how things work here,” he explained. “You come here for a week and you hate it but if you make it through a month, you can’t imagine being anywhere else.” He paused and took a bite out of his breakfast. Blaise shuddered as he eyed the...the thing. It was some sort of ‘sandwich’ — if one wished to use the term loosely. A deep fried potato mash wedged into a bun and seasoned with a completely unreasonable amount of spices and ginger. And it was literally all Draco ate these days. By all logical reasoning, he should be the size of a house by now.

“It’s called a _‘vada pav’_. And if you keep staring at it, I’m going to assume you want one,” Draco warned.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of your arteries screaming.”

Draco just smirked and went about demolishing the rest of his meal. Blaise gave up. Absently, he wondered what Narcissa would have to say about Draco’s erratic lifestyle. Did she even know where he was? Draco didn’t talk about home much, not that Blaise blamed him. He hadn’t looked back since his last argument _—_ well actually, _the_ last argument — with Lucius. Did Draco even think of home as ‘home’ anymore?

“So,” Draco spoke up, breaking into his thoughts. “You’re a father.”

Blaise’s hands tightened on the rails. He fixed his gaze on the street below, trying to distract himself with the mass of humanity milling about in all directions. Somehow, the bedlam of his own thoughts seemed to fade with the constant movement of the city. Huh. Maybe this was why people liked it here. Maybe this was why _Draco_ liked it here.

At the moment however, Draco just looked concerned. “Blaise, come on,” he insisted. “We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Blaise replied tersely. “I think we can all agree that I’m not Father Of The Year material. Danielle will be better off without…”

“I’m sorry, ‘Danielle’?”

Blaise sighed wearily. “That’s her name,” he explained. “My...the baby.”

“Huh,” Draco mused. “Danielle Zabini. I like it. Very elegant.”

“She’s not ‘Danielle Zabini’,” Blaise snapped. “She can’t be, don’t you understand? I’ll ruin her. I’ll wreck her life and…”

“Give it.”

“Excuse me?”

Draco waggled his fingers impatiently. “That picture you’ve been holding on to for two weeks. The one you’re too scared to even look at. Fork it over.”

Blaise had half a mind to argue but Draco was clearly up to something. Finally, he relented and took the slightly crumpled photo out of his pocket. “Here,” he grumbled. “Don’t get any of your sandwich grease on it.”

Draco snatched it up. Blaise watched keenly as his grey eyes lit up in delight and he grinned. He didn’t even realise he was waiting for a verdict until Draco spoke up again.

“Gorgeous,” he announced. “She’s got your eyes.”

Why did _everyone_ have to say that?

“You’re going to be beating the boys off with sticks in twenty years,” Draco went on.

“Draco…”

“Blaise, enough. We both know what’s going to happen next. You’re going to panic and spiral into denial and run around screaming for a few days. And then you’re going to go home and raise your daughter because you _know_ you want to. If you didn’t, this...” Draco waved the photograph in his face. “...wouldn’t be in your pocket.”

Blaise sneered and turned to storm off, but Draco put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Blaise,” he said quietly. “She needs her father. If you walk away now, you’ll fail her in the worst way possible.”

“Do you know how many ‘fathers’ I’ve had?” Blaise snapped. “Seven, Draco. _Seven._ Sooner or later,all of them left. Every time I dared to hope that someone might stick around, they proved me wrong. Over and over again, until I just stopped caring. I don’t know the first damn _thing_ about raising a child. I practically raised _myself_. I don’t...I don’t want to put Danielle through that. If I can’t come through for her…”

“Merlin, you’re so dramatic,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. “You’re _not_ your father. Fathers. Whatever. You’re there for the people you care about. And I know you care about your daughter. You’re scared for her and you’re scared you’re going to mess this up. But you’re not, Blaise. You’ve got this.”

“You don’t know that,” Blaise whispered. “You _can’t_ know that.”

“I do,” Draco told him. The iron like conviction in his voice was comforting, even if Blaise still didn’t believe him.

“You really think I can do this?” he asked. “All by myself?”

Draco leaned against the rail, his eyes trained on the city below. “Go home, Blaise,” he said softly. “Go home to your life and your family. It’s where you belong.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “You know, at this point I think I’m handing out this speech at least once a year.”

Blaise had half a mind to ask what that meant, but he had a feeling Draco wouldn’t tell him anything. He sighed. He missed the days when Draco had no secrets from him. When he was still there instead of in Merlin knows which corner of the world. “Where do you belong, Draco?” he found himself asking. “When are you coming home?”

Draco smirked. “Let’s just say I’m waiting for a sign.”

All this cryptic conversation was giving him a headache. Blaise squeezed Draco’s shoulder and headed back inside. It was a nice little flat, if a little spartan. But then, considering how much Draco moved around it was probably best if he didn’t invest in anything frivolous. Like a bed, apparently. The bass guitar however, was clearly a must-have. Blaise rolled his eyes. At least the git had a working wireless set.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work, mate,” Draco drawled, as he watched Blaise fiddle with the set. “We’re too far away from a magical station to pick up on…”

“I can do it,” Blaise informed him. “Maybe _you_ can go without knowing what’s happening at the home front, but some of us would like to know how Puddlemere fared at the League Cup last week.”

“That was last week?” Draco approached, looking far more interested now. “Try the knob thing again…”

“No, it’s this one here…”

“Okay, now it’s playing Bollywood music…”

“That’s actually pretty catchy,” Blaise commented. Suddenly, a thought struck and he perked up. “Oh, wait! My third father had a trick for this. I _knew_ that one was good for something...”

It was a simple enough spell and it worked like a charm.

_And, we’re back with sports..._

“Success!” Blaise announced triumphantly as the frequencies changed and WWN came back on air.

“Shh,” Draco admonished, waving him off. “I want to hear the scores.”

Blaise suppressed a grin and knelt beside him, pressing an ear to the set too. There was a lot of static but if he listened closely he could hear…

 

_...quite the amazing victory, wasn’t it Ginevra?_

_Right you are, Dean. And here we are, one week later and fans are still celebrating all over the country._

 

 Ginny.

Blaise froze and his breath hitched.

“So that’s the Weasley girl,” Draco mused thoughtfully. “Funny, she sounds different in pers...”

“Shh!” Blaise hissed, leaning closer to listen. It felt like ages had passed since he’d last heard her voice. How long had it been anyway? Did she miss him? Did she wonder where he was or what he was doing? Did she even…

 

_...never thought it would happen in my lifetime._

 

Blaise half wished he could reach into the set and cast a _Silencio_ on Thomas. Damn it, he wanted to hear Ginny again! As if on cue, she chirped up.

 

_And considering their performance this past decade, no one would blame you. But there we have it, the Cannons staged an astonishing comeback and they are **definitely** holding on to that League Cup this year._

 

Draco jumped like he’d been hexed. “I’m sorry, _what_ did she just say?!” he yelped.

“Draco, will you _please_ just let me listen?” Blaise snapped.

 

_And there you have it, folks. It’s a miracle but it’s finally happened. Cannons fans all over the country can hold their heads high once again. I for one, am definitely joining in the celebration. What about you. Ginevra?_

 

Blaise thought he heard a smile in her voice as she answered.

 

_You know what, Dean? I think I’m going to be collecting on an old wager. Somebody out there owes me big time. And that’s all the time we have for today..._

 

Draco burst out laughing, nearly drowning out her voice. The set crackled a bit and finally fell silent.

 “What?” Blaise demanded, watching warily as Draco held on to a table for support. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and turned to Blaise, eyes still sparkling with mirth.

“Nothing at all,” he grinned. “I just can’t believe the Cannons won. Talk about miracles, eh?”

Blaise smiled back, but his eyes drifted wistfully to the wireless. When he turned back, Draco was watching him with a keen look in his eye. Blaise cleared his throat and averted his eyes at once. “She’s a friend,” he explained finally.

“You’ve mentioned,” Draco replied. “She seems alright. You know, for a Weasley.”

Blaise chuckled. It was nice to know some things never changed, even in a world where the Cannons won the League Cup and he was a father. In a world where everything was suddenly different.

But that was just it, wasn’t it? Whether he liked it or not, this _was_ happening. Danielle was here and she needed him, and that _wasn’t_ going to go away. Oh, he could run from it. Blaise happened to be something of an expert in that department. But then what? Most likely, he would never see Danielle again. And she would grow up without ever knowing him. And one day…

_Every time I dared to hope that someone might stick around, they proved me wrong. Over and over again, until I just stopped caring._

The very thought made his stomach twist. It had happened to him, after all. Could it happen to little Danielle? And could he live with himself if _he_ was the very first one to let her down?

“Give it,” he heard himself saying.

Draco retrieved the picture without another word, handed it over and Blaise took it with hands that just shook a bit.

This was it, he decided. Time to grow up.

He turned the photograph over, seeing his daughter for the first time ever.

And that was the moment when Blaise Zabini finally fell in love.

She really did have his eyes— dark with long lashes. Curly hair. Daphne’s heart shaped face. She was smiling at something off camera, waving a chubby little fist around. She looked so small and delicate. She was quite possibly, the most perfect thing he had ever seen. And now that he was looking at her _—_ his little girl (Merlin, she was _his_ ) — he wondered how he could even think walking away from her was an option. He couldn’t.

“Told you she’s gorgeous,” Draco said softly.

“Yeah,” Blaise managed a choked laugh. “Looks like I really will be beating the boys off with sticks.”

Draco smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “You’ve got this, Blaise,” he repeated.

Blaise nodded, his eyes still trained on the picture of that beautiful, perfect little girl. “You know, I may not really know what a father is supposed to do,” he said softly. “But I’m an expert at what they’re _not_ supposed to do. And running away is probably at the top of that list.” Blaise smiled and shook his head. “I guess I’m going home. To raise my child. I...have a little girl and she needs me.”

“You’re going to be a great father,” Draco grinned. “Trust me. Now, let’s see about getting you that Portkey, yeah?”

“No time like the present,” Blaise replied, getting up gingerly. “I don’t suppose you’ll consider coming back with me? You’ve got responsibilities too, you know. Hell, you’re an uncle now.”

For once, Draco didn’t refuse. Instead, his eyes drifted back to the wireless and he smiled. “Well, a deal’s a deal,” he murmured, half to himself. He nodded and turned back to Blaise. “Soon. I promise.”

It was better than nothing. Blaise figured it would do. He would see Draco again. He knew he would.

But for now, it was time to go home.

“Hold on, Danielle,” he whispered. “Daddy’s coming home.”

 

****

 

They had never realised just how quiet things could be without someone prattling incessantly in the background.

“Okay,” Ron announced, breaking the stifling silence. “Is it weird that I miss him?”

Hermione sighed despondently. “It’s too quiet,” she muttered, picking at a loose thread on a placemat.

Harry’s gaze drifted from one morose face to another. He felt completely helpless. Who would have thought that Blaise’s abrupt departure would leave them all feeling so lost?

“You know what’s funny?” Ginny said, nudging Harry out of the way and sitting on the sofa. “We’ve been friends with him all this while, and _this_ is the first time we’ve ever seen where he lives.”

Harry followed her gaze, looking around Blaise’s flat. It wasn’t really what he had expected. Then again, he had been pretty sure he was going to walk into some sort of kinky sex dungeon, so the comfortable, spacious living room was a bit of a surprise.

Today was the fourteenth day that they had all gathered at Blaise’s place. By mutual, unspoken consent movie night and evenings at the bar had been put on hold until further notice. Nobody felt liked doing much, except waiting. Even Harry. _Especially_ Harry, who couldn’t help but feel that he was probably the reason Blaise had left in the first place. A part of him still didn’t believe that because it was _Blaise,_ for Merlin’s sake. For all his reckless and irresponsible behaviour, the man was a constant in their lives and he wouldn’t take off without a good reason. But...then where was he?

Why had no one heard from him?

Was he gone for good?

More importantly, was it time to call in the other Aurors and start a formal investigation? He had to do _something_.

“You know,” Ron sighed. “If he comes back, I might even consider calling off the slap bet.”

“Okay, did everyone hear that? Because I’ll call witnesses if I have to.”

Several things happened all at once. Ron yelped in alarm and upset a table. It fell with a crash, nearly knocking Harry over as he surged to his feet. Hermione and Ginny whirled around and shrieked in unison.

“Blaise!”

“Well, this is nice,” Blaise drawled, sauntering in _—_ suit and all. “Was the Leaky closed today or something? Please tell me you didn’t find my stash of aged Firewhisky.”

Ginny was the first. She closed the distance between them and looped her arms around Blaise pulling him into a fierce hug. “I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered fervently. Then she pulled away and smacked him on the head. “Are you _insane?_ What the hell were you thinking taking off like that?!”

“Well, it’s nice to see things haven’t changed much here,” Blaise drawled, rubbing his abused head. He smiled and his expression softened as he regarded her. “It’s nice to see you too, Genevieve.”

“You had us all worried sick,” Hermione scolded.

“You ruined Cannons Appreciation Week!” Ron accused indignantly.

“Ron!”

“And we were worried sick!” Ron added. “Just for that, I’m reinstating the slap bet.”

“Imagine my surprise,” Blaise drawled. Ron grinned in anticipation and Blaise rolled his eyes. “Ugh, _fine_. Go ahead...”

**SLAP!**

“That’s three,” Ron announced. Blaise rubbed his jaw and scowled as Ron squeezed his shoulder. “Good to see you again, mate. Where the hell have you been?”

“India. Nice country, very colourful. I’d recommend a lot of sunblock but…”

Harry just stood there, watching them. His friends. They were here. _All_ of them. He had never been more thankful for anything in his life.

“Blaise.”

Blaise stiffened slightly, but he turned around.

“Harry,” he greeted quietly.

Harry sighed and approached him. It was time. He couldn’t put this off any longer. “I’ve been an arse. I’m really sorry, mate.”

Blaise just watched him for several seconds, absolutely expressionless. Harry was half expecting a punch to the face but then Blaise approached and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry too,” he muttered gruffly. “I never should have…”

“You didn’t,” Harry cut in, clapping his back. “It was all me. Just...don’t pull something like this again, yeah? I need you around. You’re my wingman.”

“Oh, good,” Ron said dryly. “I was worried this wouldn’t be mushy enough.”

The rest of them laughed as Harry and Blaise practically sprang apart with a lot of uncomfortable throat clearing and jacket brushing.

“Brilliant,” Ginny grinned. “Now who’s up for some of that perfectly aged Firewhisky Blaise mentioned?”

Blaise’s smiled faded slightly. He swallowed and his eyes darted from one face to another. Harry could have sworn he looked...uncomfortable. There was very little that made Blaise uncomfortable.

“Actually,” Blaise said quietly. “About that...can we hold off on the drinks for a bit?”

His request was met with some pretty confused glances. “I don’t think I know what any of those words mean,” Ron commented.

Blaise scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I suppose there’s a better way to do this but now that you’re all here...there’s... there’s someone I want you to meet.”

He left them in the living room, moving towards the hall. Ginny stared after him, looking a bit bewildered.

“Hold off on the drinks?” she repeated blankly. “Are we sure that’s Blaise and not an impostor?”

Harry waited with the rest of them until he heard his footsteps again, signalling a return.

“Oh,” Hermione gasped.

Harry stared and instinctively caught hold of a table for support.

“Well,” Ron blurted. “Didn’t see that coming.

The little girl gurgled happily and curled a fist in Blaise’s shirt. Blaise swallowed and hoisted her up gently, but when he spoke his voice was clear and firm.

“Everyone, this is Danielle. My daughter.”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“And that’s the story of how we all met your cousin Dani.”

“I _love_ Dani,” Lily announced happily. “She’s like the coolest big sister ever.”

“Ah, Dani,” Al murmured dreamily. “I had such a crush on her when I was younger.”

“You had a crush on her until last week,” James pointed out.

“I just _said_ I was younger,” Al huffed. His brow furrowed as he went over the story again. “It’s hard to think of her as a baby. She’s just _so_ …”

“Stop,” Scorpius cut in flatly. “I’m begging you.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Believe it or not, she _was_ five months old once upon a time. And now, look at her. Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Gods, we were all so proud when she made the team. Of course, your Uncle Ron wanted her to play for the Cannons but he’s never missed a Harpies game since. I think we did okay considering how lost we were when we first met her.”

James spoke up after a beat of silence. “So, let me see if I’ve got this. Aunt Mione met Father, Aunt Ginny met Father and obviously, Uncle Blaise met him too. So basically, everyone ran into Father except for you?”

“Yeah, we’re getting there,” Harry retorted. “Now back to the story. So Danielle entered our lives one fine day and I’ll admit, things were a little rocky at the start…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 5 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Help me!” Blaise shrilled as he barged into Ron and Mione’s flat, cradling a sobbing Dani. The toddler hid in the crook of his neck, wailing like the damned. Blaise looked about one second from following her example.

“Oh for…” Hermione approached quickly, taking the little girl from him. “There there, angel,” she cooed affectionately. “What did Daddy do this time?”

Ron for one, found the whole thing rather hilarious. “Two days,” he quipped. “That might be the longest you’ve gone without making a girl burst into tears.”

“Ha ha,” Blaise mumbled, falling face down on the sofa. A whine of pure misery escaped him. “I’m so tired. She hates me and everything I do is wrong. She’s tired, she’s hungry, she needs changing, she _never_ wants to sleep…”

“Maybe we should rethink this having kids thing, Mione,” Ron muttered uneasily.

“Oh no,” Blaise snapped, pointing a dramatic finger at him. “If I’m going down, I’m taking everybody with me!”

“She’s fine,” Hermione chided, bouncing Dani on her hip. “See? She’s calming down already. Aren’t you, sweetling?”

Dani snuffled miserably into her side, turning sad, teary eyes on her father. She extended a chubby hand and grappled for him.

“See?” Hermione smiled. “She wants you.”

“Why?” Blaise mumbled sullenly. “I suck at this.”

“Oh, stop that,” Hermione scolded, handing Dani back to him. Blaise curled a protective arm around his daughter as she settled. “This is all new for her, remember? All these strangers and new faces...a little reassurance would be nice.”

Dani started sniffling again, as if to lend some credence to Hermione’s theory. She whimpered fretfully and tucked herself into Blaise’s chest. He sighed and ran a hand down her back. “What is it, darling?” he asked softly. “Just tell me what it is so I can make it better. All this guessing is killing me.”

“Try feeding her,” Ron suggested.

“I fed her an hour ago,” Blaise muttered.

Ron shrugged. “Well, that’s all I’ve got.”

Dani started keening again and Blaise suppressed a groan. Instead, he focused on soothing and shushing her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “I’m doing my best, sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Dani calmed down a bit, apparently responding to the soothing voice and the strong, firm arms around her. Blaise smiled and ran a gentle finger down her cheek. “You are the love of my life. Everything I have and everything I am from this day forward is yours. For the rest of my days.”

“Oh, that’s just precious!” Hermione beamed as Dani smiled shyly and patted Blaise’s cheek.

“The sweet-talking works,” Ron added, blinking dazedly. “Merlin, he really has a superpower.”

Blaise sighed in relief when Dani _finally_ yawned and curled into his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Mind if we crash on the sofa?” he asked, hoisting the baby up gently. “The Floo will wake her for sure.”

Ten minutes later, Hermione and Ron were watching as Blaise and his daughter napped on the sofa. Dani rested in the crook of Blaise’s elbow while he sprawled inelegantly and snored. It took all of Ron’s self restraint to not snap a picture.

“It’s a little hard to believe, isn’t it?” Hermione asked softly. “That little girl did what nobody else could.”

Ron nodded. “She fixed Blaise.”

Hermione suppressed a laugh and leaned into him. “You know, if someone had told me five years ago that _Blaise_ would be the first one of us to have a kid, I would have laughed in their face.”

Ron wrapped his arms around her. “Makes you want one of your own, doesn’t it?” he asked wistfully.

“Someday,” Hermione promised.

Ron just smiled and leaned in to kiss her. “Someday,” he agreed.

 

****

 

Sooner or later, Blaise did get the hang of the whole father business. Of course, he had a lot of help. Hermione as always, was a godsend in a crisis. She knew what to do when Dani caught a cold _and_ she figured out how to handle an entire spectrum of baby moods— from almost-but-not-quite crying to Oh-Dear-Merlin-the-world-is-ending bawling to let’s-all-laugh-at-that-spot-on-the-wall-for-two-hours. Of course, she always tried to ply Blaise with books on the subject so once in a while he turned to Harry, who shockingly turned out to be a natural at the whole baby thing. Unfortunately, there was still someone who was terrified of the very sight of Dani.

“No!” Ginny screeched, cowering behind Ron. “No no, a thousand times no!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I knew this would happen. I said it would happen. Why doesn’t anybody ever listen to me?”

Dani didn’t seem particularly concerned by the terror she was inciting. She just gurgled happily in her father’s arms, trying to grab Ginny’s hair again.

“Why?” Ginny wailed. “Why am _I_ her favourite?”

Blaise had just about had it with this nonsense. “Look,” he announced firmly. “If I can do it, you can do it. Now just, hold out your arms and…”

“I can’t! I’m sorry, I just can’t!”

“Ginny, we’ve all done it,” Hermione soothed, pulling her out from behind Ron. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I’ll just drop her,” Ginny mumbled miserably. “I’ll drop her or make her cry and then I’ll be a terrible person.”

“Blaise is a terrible person and she likes him just fine,” Harry pointed out helpfully. He smiled and patted Dani’s cheek. “Don’t you, baby girl?”

“Gah!” Dani agreed happily. But she still squirmed urgently in Blaise’s arms, trying to reach out for Ginny. Ginny whimpered in pure fright and tried to stage a hasty retreat, but Ron clamped an arm around her. “Hermione and I are going to have kids some day,” he told her sternly. “Are you going to run every time you see them?”

“Maybe,” Ginny mumbled sullenly. “Why can’t I just buy them stuff?”

“Because you’re a part of this too,” Blaise informed her firmly. “Look, I know you’re not comfortable with kids. Believe me, I know. But Dani is here, and damn it Ginny, you’re _going_ to be a part of my child’s life. Now just...okay?”

It took a bit more coaxing and fussing (more from Ginny than Dani) but eventually, Dani was being bundled into her slim arms. Ginny stared at the toddler— wide eyed and frozen— literally a hair's breadth from panicking but Dani just gurgled in delight and grabbed on to a strand of her hair. Ginny blinked and bounced her hesitantly. Dani squealed in delight and clapped her hands.

“I’m doing it,” Ginny said, sounding awestruck. “Guys, look! I’m doing it!”

“That’s my girl,” Harry said, ruffling her hair.

“See?” Blaise grinned. “You’re a natural.”

“She likes me,” Ginny whispered, smiling in delight at the happy little girl in her arms. “She really likes me!”

“She’s not the only one,” Blaise replied with a grin.

Ginny stopped and stared up at him. Her cheeks coloured just a bit and Blaise looked like he had just realised what he had said out loud. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I mean, everyone likes you,” he managed. “You know, because you’re great. Of course, you _could_ be awesome with a lot of practice but you’re...really...great. And stuff.”

Ginny smiled hesitantly. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Hey, Dani and I are going to take a walk. That okay?” She smiled and jostled Dani a bit. “Come on, kiddo. You’re really not that scary after a bit…”

Blaise watched her go with a slightly wistful expression. He didn’t notice Harry watching him with a thoughtful look on his face.

 

****

 

Harry would admit the situation took some getting used to. One minute they were all young, carefree, mostly single people wondering what it would be like to have kids some day, and then all of a sudden, there was one right in their midst _—_  this small, completely helpless and yet oddly fearless little person who made everything else seem trite and meaningless in comparison.

The time he spent with Dani was overwhelming. She was tiny and curious and absolutely exhausting. He was vaguely aware that just being her favourite uncle was taking everything out of him. He wasn’t even sure he could handle being a father. But then there were times like this, when they sat together in the park and he was the centre of her world, and he couldn’t imagine not having one of his very own.

“Look at that, Dani,” he exclaimed, pointing at the flowerbeds. He was sitting cross-legged on the grass with Dani settled on his lap. “Look at the butterfly. Can you say butterfly?”

“Bubub,” Dani obliged, staring in wonder as the butterfly took off again.

Harry chuckled and kissed her head. “That’s my smart girl,” he murmured. “You know, I think you might just be a Ravenclaw but don’t tell your Daddy I said that.”

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Blaise and Ginny sitting in the grass, just talking. Ginny was lovely as ever in a pale green sundress. It brought out the fiery red of her hair. She looked so pretty. Sometimes, it took Harry back to the time when they had been together. He had been absolutely mad for her. He wondered why she only inspired a passing fondness in him now and not the passion he vaguely remembered. Then again, he had to admit that he had never looked at her the way Blaise seemed to these days. He was practically hanging on to her every word. She said something and he threw his head back and laughed. A group of young women passed them. One of the blonds in that group shot Blaise a flirtatious smile. He didn’t even bat an eyelid, too caught up in Ginny’s story.

“Your Daddy’s got it bad,” Harry whispered to Dani. She gurgled seriously and tugged at his sleeve. Harry just smiled and indulged her with a few funny faces until Ron strode over.

“Remember when we were cool and used to hang out at a bar?” he sighed, sitting next to Harry. “What was that like?”

Harry chuckled and handed Dani over to him. Ron picked her up with practiced ease, smiling widely when she tugged at his hair. “You know what today is? It’s exactly four months since we got you,” he told her seriously. “That’s right. Four months ago, we had a life that didn’t involve changing diapers every two hours.”

“At least there’s no more crying and sobbing with that part,” Harry pointed out.

Ron frowned in confusion. “Dani doesn’t cry when she gets changed.”

“I was talking about Blaise and Ginny.”

Ron burst out laughing. “That was a good day,” he agreed. His eyes drifted to them as well. “They’re better now, though. I don’t think I’ve seen Ginny smile this much since...well, ever.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And you’re okay with this...thing,” he enquired carefully. “You know, with Blaise. I mean, it _is_ Blaise.”

Ron frowned. “Well, they’ve been dancing around each other for months. But with Dani and everything, I really think he’s getting better. I think _she’s_ getting better. And no, it wasn’t exactly fun finding out that my _sister_ snogged the bloke but she’s a big girl now. Besides, Blaise and I sat down and talked _—_ you know, a mature, sensible discussion...”

“You slapped him.”

“That’s four,” Ron agreed with a snicker. “Damn, I’ve only got one left. Can you believe it’s been four years since the Slap Bet?”

Four years. Five, if you went back just a little further. Five years since they had started hanging out together, being a part of each others’ lives. It had been one hell of a ride. Just thinking back on everything they’d been through made Harry a little dizzy. “Do you think we’ve changed?” he asked Ron.

Ron snorted. “Do I think we’ve changed?” he repeated incredulously. “Let me refer you to Exhibit A,” he continued, gesturing at Dani.

“No. I mean, do you think _we’re_ different people now? Like, from when we started out?”

He waited as Ron considered that. Finally, his friend shrugged. “How could we not be? Five years is a long time. I mean, look at me and Hermione. I thought we would always be happy together, but it turned out it was more complicated than that. Now, she’s working with kids and we’re planning one of our own and I know it looks like things just went back to the way they always were, but it’s never that simple. We’ve grown and learned from each other. Gods, you want change? Look at Blaise and Ginny. Blaise is a father now, and if you repeat this I’ll deny it but he’s good at it. And Ginny used to run screaming from kids, she used to think she could have a family or a life of her own. Now she’s Dani’s favourite person in the world and she’s finally understanding that it’s not all or nothing. If that’s not change, I don’t know what is.”

It was, wasn’t it? Harry sighed wistfully as his eyes drifted to Blaise and Ginny. Ron followed his gaze and groaned. “ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re thinking about starting something with Ginny again,” he said sternly. “Because seriously, Harry? I’ll deck you myself.”

“What? No!” Harry sputtered. “It’s not...no, it’s _not_ that. I mean, I’ll always love Ginny in a way but...we’ve been broken up for two years now. Gods, has it really been that long? And I look at her and Blaise and somehow, they’re good together. They _fix_ each other. They just...you know, fill in all the cracks. That’s something I couldn’t do for her. She couldn’t do it for me.”

“So, what’s the matter then?”

Harry smiled and shrugged. “It’s...everything you just said. You and Mione, Blaise and Ginny...you’ve all moved on. And where am I? Still where I was five years ago, waiting for someone to come along and fix me. I just wonder if it will ever happen. If I’ll ever have that.”

“Mate, of _course_ you will,” Ron exclaimed. He sounded incredulous that the alternative was even a possibility. “I can’t even...look, do you see that?” He gestured at Blaise and Ginny again. “If _those_ two can find each other, there’s no question about it. You’re not even _half_ as messed up as Blaise.”

Harry laughed at that. Ron grinned and slapped his back. “Trust me, Harry. Things change, they always do. But we’re here because of the past, because of the good times and the bad. They made us who we are. And one day, you’ll be right here with The One and you’ll look back on this conversation and remember this day. And you’ll be thankful for it because it played a part in the tomorrow I _know_ you’re going to have.”

And that right there was why Ron was his best friend. Harry smiled and clapped his shoulder.

“Thanks mate. You always know just what to say.”

“It’s what I do,” Ron grinned. “Now come on. Someone— and I won’t say who— is due for a diaper change. I’m not getting stuck with that again. Oi, Blaise! Come here a second...”

Harry obliged and followed Ron, still mulling over his words. The past, the good times and the bad — that _was_ something to think about. A grin broke out on his face as inspiration struck. Now that he thought about it, New Years was right around the corner. And Harry knew just how they would be celebrating this year.

 

****

**New Years’ Eve...**

 

“I have to hand it to you, Harry,” Blaise said, watching the fireworks go off in the distance. “You really pulled out all the stops this time.”

 “This is _amazing_ ,” Ginny agreed, hoisting Dani on her hip and keeping a careful distance from the railing. “How did you get McGonagall to agree to this?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I figured she owed me a favour. I did save the world, you know.”

“Once,” Blaise retorted dryly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Harry grinned and gave him a shove. “Long story short, it’s still technically Christmas break and there are hardly any students around. She said as long as we don’t get in trouble, the Astronomy Tower is ours for New Years.”

“You’d think after all these years, she’d know better,” Ron quipped. “By the way, has anyone seen my wife?”

“Loo,” Ginny answered. “She’ll be back soon. Merlin, this is beautiful.”

They fell silent as they looked out into the sky. The stars were out and the fireworks went up every now and then. The Astronomy Tower was absolutely majestic— spiralling up against the dark sky. Dani absolutely loved it. She squealed and clapped her hands every time the fireworks were set off. Ginny smiled and kissed her forehead. “You like that? This is Hogwarts. It’s where we all met, pretty much centuries ago. You’re going to live here some day.”

“Actually, I was thinking of sending her to Beauxbatons,” Blaise countered with a frown. “I’m not sure I like the look of these Hogwarts lads.”

“You don’t like the look of the boys in Hermione’s playschool,” Ginny snorted.

“Hey, I _saw_ that kid looking at my daughter.”

“Blaise, he was two years old.”

“Do you want me to tell you what _I_ was like at two? So, I had this nanny...”

“Please stop,” Ron blurted.

Harry chuckled and shook his head fondly. Nutters, all of them— and there was no one he’d rather be with than them. The school grounds spread out in front of him, the stars above... this place held so many memories, and he wouldn’t lie — not all of them were good. The Astronomy Tower itself could testify to the darkness that these walls had held once. But it was a part of who he was, who he would be. There was no better place for a new beginning than right here.

“So who wants to dance?” he asked. The music had been playing for a while now, and he wouldn’t even ask why or how Blaise had seen fit to equip the Tower with mood lighting and jazz. But it was here and they would be pretty foolish not to take advantage of it.

“You’re on your own,” Ron told him. “I’m going to find Hermione.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Ginny grinned. “Here, Blaise. Take your kid.”

She bundled Dani into Blaise’s waiting arms and pulled Harry over to the makeshift dance floor. Harry waltzed with her to the music and he couldn’t help but think how easy this was— being her friend. Being her boyfriend had been exhausting, but _this_ felt right. Maybe this was how it was always meant to be.

“Look at _you_ ,” Ginny teased gently. “You’ve come a long way since the Yule Ball.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Harry smiled. “I think we’ve all changed. Look at you, for example. With the babysitting and the domesticity— you’re sure it’s not contagious?”

Ginny huffed and smacked his arm. “Yeah, fine. Go ahead and make fun of me. But I’ll have you know that Dani is the biggest adventure I’ve ever had. She’s...you know, she’s a little person and I get to be a part of her growing up. That’s exciting. Honestly? I don’t think anything else compares.”

“And you don’t miss it? The adventure of the open road and all that?”

Ginny ruffled his hair. “You know, this bloke I met in Argentina once told me that life doesn't have to be all or nothing. It’s just life.”

Harry considered that. “That’s sound advice,” he offered.

Ginny smiled softly. “Yeah, it is.”

Harry would have asked her more about it, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind if I cut in?” Blaise asked with a hopeful smile.

And in that moment, Harry really didn’t. If he made Ginny happy and if Ginny made _him_ happy, then that was all he wanted for them. “Not at all,” he said. Blaise squeezed his shoulder— just the slightest indication that he understood, that he was grateful. He didn’t say anything. Neither did Harry. They didn’t need to.

So, he just smiled as Dani was handed over to him, watching fondly as Blaise swept a smiling Ginny up in his arms. And Harry let him.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he said to Dani as he left them twirling to the music. “Looks like you’re my date tonight.”

Dani gurgled happily as they stood out on the Tower, watching the fireworks again. Harry dropped a kiss in her dark curls. “Take a good, long look, sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is where it all started.”

“We’re counting down!” Ginny announced suddenly. “The New Year starts in ten seconds!”

“Here we go,” Harry murmured.

_Ten._

_Nine._

_Eight._

_Seven._

_Six._

“Five seconds,” Blaise informed them.

_Four._

_Three._

_Two_  .

“One,” Harry whispered. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dani’s chubby cheek. “Happy New Year, baby girl.”

Dani giggled and clapped her hands as Blaise and Ginny kissed under the stars. “Yeah,” Harry told her. “I think they look good, too.”

“Harry.”

He whirled around to see Ron standing next to him. “Hey mate,” Harry greeted. “You just missed the...”

“Harry,” Ron repeated. He was pale and his eyes were wide. Harry felt a trickle of unease down his spine at Ron’s dazed expression. “Ron,” he said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Ron blinked and shook his head slowly. “Hermione...”

“What about her?” Harry demanded, looking around frantically. “She’s okay, right? Where is...”

“Right here,” Hermione spoke up from behind him. She approached Ron slowly and took his hand. Her eyes were misty and... okay, Harry was really worried now. “What is it?” he demanded again. Ginny and Blaise were coming over as well, looking concerned.

“Is everything okay?” Ginny asked. “Mione, are you _crying?_ ”

Hermione bit her lip and pulled out her wand. Harry didn’t recognize the spell but he couldn’t be bothered to think about it when something was _obviously_ terribly wrong. Hermione was still crying and there was a light floating out from her wand now. A red light which floated placidly over her stomach and...

_Red._

Harry froze. 

“Oh!” Ginny gasped. “It’s...”

“Red,” Blaise confirmed, blinking rapidly. “Definitely red. Everyone’s seeing this, right?”

It was red _._

It was _red_.

“I’m going to be a Dad,” Ron mumbled, still looking like he had been run over by the Hogwarts Express.

“We’re having a baby,” Hermione whispered.

And hell broke loose.

Ginny shrieked in delight and launched herself at them, Blaise laughed and thumped Ron on the back, Dani squealed and gurgled and issued other sounds of general baby approval and Harry was suddenly caught up in a torrent of laughing, shouting, cheering people with his arm around Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Blaise by his side and Dani in his arms.

A baby.

His best friends in the world were going to be _parents_.

He laughed out loud and joined in the chaos that just never seemed to end with this group.

It was the best beginning to a New Year he could have asked for.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

 

“Okay, I have to say it,” Scorpius broke in. “Now it’s just getting depressing.”

“Blondie’s got a point, Dad,” James added. “I mean, it looks like everyone got their happily ever after except for you.”

“Thank you. And don’t call me Blondie.”

“Whatever you say, Blondie.”

Harry smiled and poured himself another drink. “I’m not going to lie— at the time it felt like I was all alone. But that’s the thing about life, kids. It pulls a Wronski Feint on you when you least expect it. For example, there was no way I could have known that at that exact moment...”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 5 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~ 

**New Year's Eve: Kings Cross Station**

 

Gwen wasn’t crazy about working the late shift on New Year’s Eve. There was something unbearably sad about the concept. Of course, it didn’t really matter much considering that Malcolm was in Guatemala with Healers without Borders. It would hardly do to go back to an empty house. Still, it was New Year’s and everyone was with their friends and families and here she was, watching the last train trundle on to the station.

A lone passenger stepped out. Gwen frowned and leaned over her counter to get a better look. Poor bloke. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one on her own tonight. He hoisted a guitar over his shoulder and approached. Gwen raised an eyebrow in evident interest as she noticed his lean, tall frame and those pretty, grey eyes.

 _Malcolm_ , she reminded herself firmly.

Still, no harm in looking, right?

“Hi,” he said, approaching her counter. “Is this the International Portkey Office?”

“That’s us,” she replied with a bright smile. Oh, he _was_ cute. And a musician too, apparently. “Can we— well, _I_ — help you?”

“I need to turn this in,” he said, tossing something on the counter. She picked up the guitar pick and cast the usual spells on it. Definitely a Portkey. “Of course,” she said. “I just need to run a few tests on it. It will only take a few minutes.”

He nodded, so she went about with the usual. Okay, so what did we have here? Belgium. France. The Netherlands. Italy. Argentina. Brazil. India...

“My, haven’t _we_ been busy?” she mumbled, half to herself. One of those wanderer types, apparently. Shame. Someone should have tied down a handsome bloke like that...

“Everything’s in order,” she said finally, pocketing her wand. “I’ll make sure it reaches the offices. Shall we see about issuing you a new key, Mr...” she frowned and checked the name again, “...Malfoy?”

He smiled slightly but shook his head. “No thanks. I think I’ll stick around here for a while.”

She nodded and flashed him another smile. “Well then, let me be the first to say— welcome home, Mr Malfoy.”

He laughed. “You might be the _only_ one to say it,” he told her. “But thank you. Have a nice night.”

She watched his retreating back until he was out of sight.

 _Damn._  

Gwen sighed and flopped down in her seat again, resolving to owl Malcolm first thing tomorrow.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Oh, thank Merlin,” James exclaimed.

“What are you so happy about?” Al demanded. “It took them six _years_ to end up in the same country!” He shook his head and turned to Harry. “Seriously Dad, it’s a miracle you found each other at all.”

“Honestly? I’m inclined to agree with you,” Harry grinned. “And it would never have happened, if it wasn’t for the wedding.”

“The wedding?” Lily piped up.

“Your Uncle Blaise and Aunt Ginny’s wedding, to be exact,” Harry told her. “It’s where Father and I met.”

Scorpius threw his arms up, apparently exasperated. “And you couldn’t have just mentioned that before? How’s this for a story, Dad? _Father and I met at a wedding._ Simple, yet effect- **ow!** ”

He yelped and nursed his ribs as Lily rubbed her elbow. “You’re ruining story time,” she informed him severely.

“Yeah, pipe down,” Al added. “We _still_ don’t know where the pineapple came from.”

Scorpius huffed and subsided. “No need for violence,” he grumbled sullenly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shall I continue?” 

There was no protest, so he did.

“The wedding took place late in the year. Of course, we were all pretty excited back then. But nobody guessed just how eventful it was going to be...”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 6** ~*~*~*~*~

 

A lot of things happened that spring. Dani turned one. Hermione and Ron started the nursery and spent a lot of time harassing Healer Bones. Finally, the woman admitted defeat and confirmed that yes, for the thousandth time, they _would_ be having a boy and yes, he was _perfectly_ healthy and could she take a coffee break now, she’d been working a double shift for two weeks. The baby was due in September, precisely two months after the big wedding. That of course, was the other big thing that happened that spring.

Blaise proposed and Ginny said yes.

It wasn’t easy. There was a lot of hyperventilating (Blaise) and last minute angst about making such a huge, life changing decision (Ginny). But in the end they sat down, talked and laid out the ground rules.

Blaise could keep his blog and most of his suits. However, anything that had seen the inside of a ‘Gentleman’s Club’ had to go. Ginny wanted to take a break from work and travel for a year. Dani would go with them. Daphne— who was now settled in Chicago and moving in with a new boyfriend— had offered to keep her while the newlyweds went on their little world tour but Ginny couldn’t stomach the idea of being away from her little girl for an entire year. An amused Daphne had politely withdrawn the proposal but not before telling Blaise to _‘Keep this one. She’s good for you.’_

In short, they had decided to commit one hundred percent to ‘having it all’; because they were just _that_ awesome.

So the year came and went, bringing its surprises along the way.

But the one thing that surprised nobody was that Harry would be Blaise’s Best Man.

To tell the truth, Blaise had been anxious about asking him. But Harry was his friend and more importantly, his _wingman_ so there really was no question about it. He went ahead and asked him, the day after Ginny said yes.

“So, how about it?” Blaise asked cautiously. “I mean, I totally get it if you don’t…”

“Mate,” Harry grinned, pulling him into a brotherly hug. “I’d be honoured. It’s you and Ginny. Of course I’ll do it.”

“And you’re sure?” Blaise confirmed. “It’s not going to be weird or uncomfortable…”

“Blaise, it’s your wedding,” Harry replied with an amused laugh. “Of _course_ it’s going to be weird and uncomfortable. I’m still in.”

And that was that. Blaise grinned and returned the hug. “Awesome! And just you wait, Harry. This wedding is going to be legen-wait for it-dary _._ Legendary!”

Harry shook his head in fond exasperation, congratulated him and left. Not a second after he was gone, Blaise’s Floo flared up again.

“Blaise? You there?”

Blaise whirled around and his grin widened as he caught sight of Draco’s face in the fireplace. “Draco! Am I glad to see you! I’ve got something to tell you...”

“Oh no,” Draco groaned. He actually had the nerve to face palm. “You knocked someone up the duff again, didn’t you?”

Blaise scowled at him. “Why does everyone assume _that’s_ what I’m about to tell them?” he demanded. “You, my mother…”

“Past experience?”

“Point taken,” Blaise conceded. “Anyway, I’ve got something to tell you— something _huge_.”

“Actually, so do I. But you go first. Tell me her name, what you did and how much you’re going to need to pay off the Wizengamot.”

“Ha ha,” Blaise deadpanned. “But no. Here’s the thing. I’m... getting married.”

Draco stared at him for all of twenty seconds, and then he started laughing. Blaise scowled and crossed his arms defensively as the git practically had a fit, grabbing hold of a table for support. “Oh, that’s a _good_ one,” Draco snickered, finally subsiding enough to form a coherent sentence. “Yeah, pull the other one. Seriously, what did you do?”

“I _proposed_ and she said yes,” Blaise replied flatly. 

Draco’s smile faded at that. Blaise allowed himself to feel a little smug as reality sank in and his jaw dropped. “What?” Draco shrilled. “When? Who? _How?_ ”

“Last week, Ginevra Weasley and I’m going to ignore that last one because, _rude._ ”

“Weaslette?” Draco blurted incredulously. “Red hair, freckles, radio voice?”

Blaise nodded hesitantly. Gods, he hoped Draco wouldn’t throw a fit. He just seemed stunned for now. He blinked and shook his head slowly, looking a tad dazed. “Well. That escalated quickly.”

“Are you going to be a prat about this?” Blaise asked anxiously. “Please tell me you won’t be a prat about this. She’s a great girl, you know. And…”

“I know,” Draco placated. “No, she’s fine. I just...what the hell?”

Blaise shrugged. “It happened really fast but...you know how it goes. She’s The One. She’s good for me. And I think you’d like her if you got to know her too.”

“I already...no, you know what? Never mind.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Not important. Congratulations, you tosser. When’s the wedding?”

“July,” Blaise told him. “And you will be there. I don’t even care where you are right now. I don’t care if you’re in Egypt or...Yemen or wherever. You will _be_ there at my wedding or so help me Merlin I’ll…”

“Diagon Alley.”

“...find you and make you pay for...excuse me, what now?”

Draco smiled slightly. “I came back,” he elaborated. “I’m at Diagon. I haven’t really been home yet— figured the later I met Lucius, the better. But...I came home, Blaise. I’m back.”

Oh, this just got even more awesome!

“That is brilliant!” Blaise cheered. “We are meeting for drinks _right_ now. There’s a club down the...”

“It’s nice to see commitment hasn’t changed you,” Draco grinned. “Seriously, though. Congrats, mate. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy you’re back,” Blaise replied sincerely. “It wouldn’t feel right if I got married without you there. Thank you, Draco.” And then an idea struck him. A truly awesome, absolutely fantastic, totally _legendary_ idea. Oh, _why_ hadn’t he thought of it before?

“And there’s more!” he announced, not even pausing to think because consequences were for losers. “You are going to be my Best Man.”

Alright, so maybe it wasn’t traditional to have two Best Men, but he would make it work. And if he didn’t mention that little detail to Harry or Draco, it wasn’t so much a lie as it was ‘crisis management’. Yes. That. The point was, they were _both_ his Best Men— in every sense of the word. How could he get married without either of them there? Of course, they had a slightly contentious history, but you know what? Tough. They could deal with it at the time.

Not that Blaise intended to give them a choice.

“I’d be honoured,” Draco replied, evidently delighted. “So, do I get to meet the bride or...”

No, that wouldn’t do. If Draco got wind that he was Co-Best Manning the wedding with Harry, there might be trouble. “It’s probably best if you see her on the Big Day,” Blaise told him. “Actually, maybe it’s best if we _all_ meet at the wedding. You know how it is, wedding details and all. Busy, busy. But you and I are getting a drink later tonight, yeah?”

And nobody would be the wiser to his little...addition to the wedding details. Being a Slytherin was _so_ much fun.

“Sounds good to me,” Draco told him. “See you then.”

The flames flickered out of existence as Draco signed off. Blaise grinned gleefully and rubbed his hands.

Just four months to go until the Big Day.

Four months until the most legen-wait for it and I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because the second half of that word is- _dary_ wedding ever!

Blaise couldn’t help it. He high fived himself.

 

****

**Four months later...**

 

“The Farhampton Inn,” Hermione grumbled, waddling down to the lobby of said inn, one hand on her swollen belly. “Well it’s _far_ , I’ll give you that.”

Ginny took her arm to help her. “Would you rather have this wedding at The Burrow?” she asked dryly. “Need I remind you what our attic ghoul did to Fleur’s hair right before the ceremony?”

“We washed the purple right out,” Hermione protested. “And it was perfectly well behaved when Ron and I got married.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well, excuse me for not taking chances. And speaking of the devil, where is my brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

“Ron got held up at the office again,” Harry announced as he approached them. “You doing alright, Mione?”

“Oh, fan-bloody-tastic,” Hermione muttered. “Hugo’s been kicking up a storm since morning and Ron isn’t here for me to yell at but you know, everything’s just peachy.”

Harry grinned and kissed her cheek. “He’s leaving London soon. In fact, he was getting a Portkey when I called. Don’t worry, yeah? The Best Man’s on it.”

“Best Best Man _ever!_ ” Ginny added fervently. “Seriously, Harry. I can’t thank you enough for finding this place. It’s perfect.”

Harry smiled. He was actually pretty proud of himself for handling that particular crisis. The Farhampton Inn was a little, out of the way establishment with just the right blend of comfort and class to accommodate the Burrow’s boisterous residents and Blaise’s comparatively pickier family— specifically his mother. His very beautiful, statuesque, had-seven-husbands-who-left-in-a-hurry mother. Yeah, Harry wasn’t about to poke that bear with a stick. Plus the rooms were nice and there was a beautiful dance hall _and_ a picturesque lighthouse just a little ways down the road.

Yes, The Farhampton Inn was the perfect venue for the wedding.

Now, if only they could get the rest of the wedding party here in time for the Big Day.

“I’m going to kill Ron if he misses the rehearsal dinner,” Hermione moaned. “I can’t believe he’s still not here!”

“Everyone else is here,” Ginny pointed out. “Charlie, Bill and Fleur... oh, and Mum just flooed in.”

“Yay,” Hermione deadpanned. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Um, Hermione…” Harry started, half gesturing at her swollen belly.

In hindsight, that was a mistake.

“Juice, Harry!” Hermione snapped, all but baring her teeth at him. “Plain, boring non alcoholic juice, okay? Gods, it’s like you’re filling in for Ron!”

She stormed off, leaving a flummoxed Harry blinking in the silence. “You know when I said I want kids someday?” he asked Ginny. “Remind me _not_ do that.”

“It’s just hormones,” Ginny grinned. “She’s actually been a fantastic Maid of Honour. All calm and collected and patient, I figure it’s time for her to go a little mental. Anyway, she’s Ron’s problem now so you just focus on every other crisis that...why are you checking your phone and looking like Death just called?”

Harry waved her off as he stared at the ominous message he had just received. “Oh Merlin,” he managed.

“What?” Ginny demanded. “What happened? What’s going…”

“It’s Ron. He’s...he’s not coming.”

“What?!”

 

****

 

Around that time, Ron could be found waffling about at Kings Cross Station, Platform 10½ with a Muggle mobile phone pressed to his ear, trying to keep his hearing intact as his wife screamed at him from the other end.

“No! You listen to me, Ronald Bilius Weasley! My back hurts, my feet are swollen and I just drank my own weight in grape juice! Not wine. _Grape_ juice! I don’t care what you have to do. You get your arse down to the Farhampton Inn right _now_ or so help me…”

“Mione, please just listen,” Ron groaned, scrubbing wearily at his face. “I’m standing in front of the Portkey Office right now. There’s a city-wide alert because of that incoming storm. No Portkeys, Apparition is a bad idea and Floo Lines are down everywhere. Their words, not mine. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Ron, so help me I will...Ginny! I wasn’t done talking to…”

“Ron?”

Ron sighed as his sister’s voice came through. “Hey, sis.”

“So, what are you going to do? Because I’m not getting married without my brother here, you know.”

“Ginny, be reasonable. I don’t have a way to get there without…”

“Here’s the deal, Ronniekins. Either you get down here or I’m telling Mum. Yeah, that’s right. I went there. Your call, big brother. Oh here, talk to Blaise.”

“Ronald my boy, I heard you’re in bit of a jam.”

Honestly, were they _all_ going to tear him a new one? Blaise didn’t even wait for an acknowledgement. He just barrelled on. “Here’s what you need to do. Is there a woman behind that Portkey Office counter thing?”

Ron turned around to take another look at the curly haired blond behind the counter. She smiled politely at him and pointed back to the ‘Temporarily Closed’ sign set out in front of her.

“Yeah,” Ron said slowly. “I think her name’s Gwen or something.”

“Brilliant. So, this is what you need to do. You must seduce this Gwen. As soon as you’ve got her face down on that counter, swipe the Portkey and get out of there. Trust me, it works every time.”

It took Ron a few seconds to process that. “Do you remember when we all agreed it was okay for you to marry my little sister? I’m not so sure I’m on board with that anymore.”

“This is no time for jokes, Ron! Just man up and do it. For Salazar’s sake, take one for the team!”

Ron was starting to feel a headache coming on. “Blaise, _no_. I just...I can’t even...no. Just no!”

“There is no ‘Blaise no I just I can’t even no just no’! Ugh, you know what? Talk to Harry. He’ll tell you I’m right…”

“Ron?” Oh, thank Merlin. It was Harry’s voice at the other end now. Good old Harry; _he_ wasn’t a lunatic. “Please tell me you’re ignoring everything Blaise just said.”

“I always ignore everything Blaise just said,” Ron replied. “Mate, I’m stuck. Tell me you have a plan.”

“Best Man’s on it. Okay, so if magical travel is out, that leaves the Muggle way. Do you think you can drive a car?”

Ron scoffed. “Harry, you were there in Second Year. Of _course_ I can drive a car.”

“You know they don’t normally fly, right?”

“They don’t?”

He thought he heard Harry groan at the other end. “Never mind, you’ll figure it out,” Harry said firmly. “Here’s what you need to do. Ask that girl at the counter where the nearest car rental place is. She’ll know, and she can probably help you exchange your Galleons for some Muggle money…”

“Got it,” Ron confirmed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Hurry, Ron. We can’t have this wedding without you. Just get over here as soon as possible, yeah?”

Ron said goodbye, hung up and took a deep breath to calm himself. Okay. Okay, he could do this. He jogged back to the counter. Gwen sighed when she spotted him. “Sir, I already told you I can’t give you a Portkey,” she said apologetically. “The storm…”

“I know, it’s fine,” Ron said. “But I really need to get to this Farhampton place and I was wondering if…”

“Farhampton?” she asked suddenly. “Wait, do you mean The Farhampton Inn?”

“Yes! How did you…”

“Wow, that place is _popular_ today. That bloke right there’s going the same way. I told him where the Muggle car rental thing is and...hey, maybe you can get a car together!”

Ron followed the trail of her finger, into the crowd of people. “Who?” he demanded, craning his neck to get a better look. An elderly witch with an unreasonably large hat passed by, blocking his view.

“Him!” Gwen exclaimed, gesturing a little violently now. “Nice looking blond? The one with the guitar? Look, he’s right there!”

Oh. Ron saw him now. Tall bloke, carrying a guitar, walking to the exit. And he seemed to know where he was going too. He grinned happily. Finally! This was working out.

“Brilliant!”

“Yes, isn’t he?” Gwen sighed dreamily. “He comes here a lot. I think he’s bent. Do you think he’s bent? Not that it matters _—_ I mean, I do have a boyfriend...”

Ron wasn’t listening anymore. This was his one chance at getting to the wedding and he was taking it. So, he left a still chattering Gwen behind and took off like a Firebolt after the bloke. “Oi, you!”

Damn it, he was too far away. And now he was taking the exit. Ron nearly lost him, but then he saw a flash of blond as the bloke went through the magical barrier. He quickened his footsteps and promptly followed suit. As soon as he was out in the muggle world, he staggered to a halt. Good grief, the crowd was endless! People milled about everywhere, jostling and pushing as they made their way to the platforms. Ron groaned. Where _was_ he?

A blond, bobbing head somewhere to the left caught his attention again. Ron was moving before he even registered it. “Oi! Guitar guy! Wait up a second!”

The bloke stopped and looked around.

“Oh, for Merlin’s...” Ron waved frantically at him, trying to get his attention. “Over here!”

He turned around. Ron staggered to a halt, nearly tripping over his own feet. Their eyes widened in comical unison.

“Malfoy?” Ron blurted.

Oh no.

No. No. No.

Malfoy didn’t seem any happier at this development. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Ron was still debating on whether to say hi or call him a Ferret again, when Malfoy spoke up.

“Okay, now it’s just getting ridiculous.”

Ron blinked. “I’m sorry, what…”

But Malfoy was backing away. He was glaring too, pointing an accusing finger in Ron’s face and looking pretty agitated. “You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I am _through._ You hear me, Weasley? I am _not_ doing this again!”

Ron scowled back, if only on general principle. It was Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. Even if said Malfoy wasn’t making a lot of sense right now. “What are you talking about? I just...”

“There is literally one of you on every corner!” Malfoy informed him, waving an agitated hand about. “I’ve had enough! I’ve got my own problems, okay? I’m in no mood to play Mind Healer. Again! Do you hear me? No!”

“But…”

“I don’t want to hear it! Whatever it is, go home and deal with it. Go _home._ Seriously, every bleeding time I turn around…”

Okay, seriously. _What_ was this about?

He didn’t have time to find out. Ron stared as Malfoy turned and stormed off, still ranting. Well, that was unexpected. And just what was he supposed to do now? He could probably find the car place on his own and take it from there. How hard could it be, really? Then again, apparently cars were not supposed to fly and he really wasn’t sure what ‘gears’ were. Dad had mentioned them but…

Did Malfoy know how to drive? Well, he _was_ here. Plus, he was wearing Muggle clothes and he had a guitar. Those were some fairly solid credentials.

Then again, it _was_ Malfoy and he was clearly a little touched in the head.

But Ginny’s wedding...

But it was Malfoy _..._

But Harry was counting on him being there...

But it was _Malfoy_...

But Hermione would disembowel him with a rusty spoon...

Right, decision made.

“Malfoy!” Ron yelled, running after him again.

“Oh, for the love of... _what_ do you want?” Malfoy snapped, walking faster now. Damn his long legs! Ron hurried to keep pace.

“So, you’re going to Farhampton too, right?” he started conversationally. “I probably should have guessed. You were mates in school with Blaise...how about that crazy bloke, yeah?”

“Weasley, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I am telling you right now...”

“Take me with you.”

Malfoy stopped and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re getting a car, right?” Ron demanded, a little desperately. “Let me ride with you. I _have_ to be there. It’s a matter of life and...”

“No,” Malfoy replied flatly.

“Malfoy, come on! Why the hell not?”

“Get your own damn car,” Malfoy snapped. “I’m done with this...this Help a Gryffindor In Need thing you people have going on. Get your own car and drive down there _yourself_.”

“I’m not a very good driver,” Ron admitted reluctantly.

“Imagine my surprise,” Malfoy drawled. “I seem to recall you started quite early. Not many people have the distinction of traumatising the Whomping Willow before they take their OWLs.”

“Oh, come on,” Ron whined. “Apparently, cars are not supposed to fly.”

“You don’t say.”

Okay, this wasn’t working. Ron decided to go for the emotional approach. It was a long shot but desperate measures and all that. “Look, it’s my sister’s wedding. I _have_ to be there. A bloke’s got to be at his sister’s wedding, you know?”

“Get. Your. Own. Car.”

“Hermione will kill me if I’m late, damn it!”

Malfoy smirked. “You’re just making this more fun for me.”

“Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! Blaise said you were sort of decent now.”

“He said _you_ were sort of decent now,” Malfoy drawled, sauntering off again. “Clearly, he was wrong about both of us. Later, Weasley.”

Ron glared daggers at his retreating back. His temper was rising— a common occurrence where Malfoy was involved— and he just burst out. “You know what? _Fine!_ Be that way, you prat! Go! And I hope you’re bloody pleased with yourself! Thanks to you, I’ll miss all the good stuff— the pictures and the toast and the _buffet_. Hermione will be furious and I won’t even get to slap Blaise in the face! That’s all on you, Malfoy! That’s all on...”

“Wait, what?” Malfoy skidded to a halt. He padded back, frowning enquiringly. “Go back to that last bit.”

“The buffet?”

“You said you were going to slap Blaise in the face. Let’s talk about that little detail.”

“Oh, that. See, we had this Slap Bet...”

“There was a Slap Bet? And Blaise _lost?_ ” Malfoy exclaimed.  “Weasley, that’s the sort of thing you lead a conversation with.”

“You _want_ me to slap him?” Ron asked uncertainly.

“Who doesn’t?”

Point taken. And unless Ron was very much mistaken...

“Does this mean I can ride with you?”

He waited anxiously while Malfoy considered that for a while. Finally, the berk seemed to have reached a decision. “You absolutely _swear_ you don’t have some kind of major life decision you need help with?” he demanded suspiciously. “No existential crises or...”

Oh, for Merlin’s sake!

“For the last time, no!” Ron snapped. “My life is perfect! What, you want it in writing?”

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Malfoy muttered. “ _And_ you’ll slap Blaise? Right in his stupid face?”

“I’ll swear an oath if it will make you drive me there.” Seriously, he would. He was that desperate.

Malfoy sighed. “Fine,” he relented reluctantly. “But if we’re going to spend ten hours driving across the country in the same car, we need to set some ground rules. For example, _I_ pick the music.”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever, okay? Just...”

“Say it,” Malfoy insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly. “Say ‘Malfoy picks the music’.”

“Oh, for...fine!” Ron snapped. “Malfoy picks the music. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Malfoy drawled. “Come on, Weaselbe. Let’s get some wheels and hit the road.”

Ron sighed and followed him. This wedding better be worth it.

 

****

 

“Okay, I just got a text from Ron,” Harry announced. He frowned as he checked the brief message again. “He says he’s hitching a ride and he’ll tell us all about it when he gets here, which should be tomorrow afternoon. So it’s all good.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Hermione sighed in relief. She took a healthy swig of her ever present grape juice. “I don’t think I can take another crisis.”

The door open with a loud slam and Blaise barged in. “There’s another crisis,” he announced.

“Of course,” Hermione grumbled. “Okay, I’m getting up. Blaise, hold my juice. Harry, get a forklift.”

“Oh, stop it,” Harry chided, helping her up. “Okay, let’s do this. What are we looking at? Flowers? Food? The six foot ice sculpture Blaise insisted on even though I totally told him it was going to melt?”

“LL Cool Blaise is fine,” Blaise informed him with a condescending sniff. “No, it’s worse. So much worse.”

“Really? And just what is so…”

“It’s the parents.”

Hermione gasped and Harry swallowed audibly. “Oh Merlin, _no_ ,” he managed.

Blaise nodded solemnly. “They’re in the lobby. It’s getting ugly.”

There was no time for further chit chat. Harry dashed off, closely followed by a sprinting Blaise and a lumbering Hermione. He skidded to a halt in the lobby and visibly paled as he took in the ominous scene in front of him.

Bianca Zabini in all her icy glory, facing off with a red faced and apparently furious Molly.

“Mrs Weasley, I do believe you’re overreacting,” Bianca purred, flicking her dark hair back. “I never insinuated that your daughter isn’t good enough for my Blaise. Ginevra is perfectly lovely. I simply said that it was astounding what a lovely job you’ve done raising her considering your...frugal lifestyle.”

“Oh boy,” Bill whimpered. He retreated to a corner, joining a cowering Charlie— and with good reason. Molly looked fit to explode.

“I’m inclined to agree, Mrs Zabini,” she hissed back. “It’s a shame you couldn’t quite manage the same with _your_ son, considering your _less_ than frugal lifestyle.”

“Oh boy,” Blaise managed. Ginny gasped as the wands slid out and tightened her hold on Dani, just in case she needed to bolt. It was looking like a pretty good idea at this point...

Bianca’s dark eyes narrowed to near slits. “I’m not sure I like your insinuation,” she replied in a near whisper.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. By the way, how is that husband of yours? Oh, _wait._ ”

Bianca’s lip curled. “Those are fighting words where I come from.”

“Really?” Molly asked innocently. “ _Do_ excuse me, dear. I don’t meet many _foreigners_ so…”

And here come the wands. If ever there was a time for an intervention, this was it Harry’s desperate gaze roamed the little space, looking for a distraction. Really, anything would do. But try as he might he couldn’t find anything that would help defuse this awful situation.

By pure chance he looked back at Ginny…

...and he saw it.

  _Dani._

There was no time to think about it. Harry just leapt into the fray. “Look!” he yelled, grabbing hold of little Dani and holding her out to the warring factions like a peace offering. “A grandchild!”

It worked like a perfectly executed charm. Dani’s timing couldn’t have been better. She blinked and gurgled happily, reaching out for the women. Molly’s livid expression melted away in the face of sheer cuteness and even Bianca’s eyes softened.

“Oh, hello angel,” Molly cooed, taking her from Harry.

“There’s my beautiful princess,” Bianca murmured, tucking a stray curl behind Dani’s ear.

Molly smiled and cradled the child carefully. “She has your eyes,” she told Bianca.

Bianca looked just the slightest bit startled, but she nodded slowly. “Thank you. Perhaps someday, she will inherit your generosity and kindness.”

“Mrs Zabini! That is just the _nicest…_ ”

“Do call me Bianca, won’t you Molly dear? We’re going to be family, after all.”

Crisis averted.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall, giving Blaise and Ginny the all clear. They shot him a thankful look each and took off. “I am officially the best Best Man ever,” Harry whispered, half to himself.

“Seconded,” Hermione said, slipping into a chair next to him. She only looked a little begrudging as she handed him a glass of Scotch. “That was brilliant.”

Harry grinned and raised his glass. “Let’s hope that’s all the excitement this week has in store for us,” he quipped. “I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Somehow, I doubt it,” Hermione sighed. “I just hope Ron’s having an easier time than us.”

 

****

**The Road Trip: Three hours in...**

 

It had started as polite, stilted conversation about the weather. Ron still wasn’t sure at what point it had devolved into the Road Trip To Hell but one hour in and sure enough, both he and Malfoy were screaming their respective heads off at each other.

“I swear by everything that is holy, Weasley, I will throw you **out of this car!** ”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Malfoy! **You know I’m right!”**

“Right? **Right?!** I don’t even know how you can look at yourself after saying something so outrageous!

“Everyone’s entitled to their opinion!”

“Yes, but your opinions are _stupid!_ Of all the preposterous claims I have ever heard…”

“It’s not a ‘claim’, it’s a fact! A well documented, proven fact, Malfoy! Ducks _are_ better than rabbits and they always will be!”

“They are not!”

“Just shut up and look at the evidence, will you? What would you prefer for Christmas dinner? A nice, succulent duck or a gamey rabbit?!”

“We’re not talking about flavour!”

**“Flavour counts, Malfoy!”**

“Okay, you want to play in the big leagues? Let’s talk Easter _._ Do _you_ want a duck hiding the eggs for your treasure hunt? Do you?!”

“That would make sense, you know. I mean, ducks _are_ actually capable of making the eggs in the first place and all.”

“That’s...fine, I’ll give you that one. But, what about good luck charms? Who carries a duck’s foot around for good luck? Anyone? I don’t think so!”

“Yeah? Well, let’s go bigger! When it’s cold outside, you can wrap yourself up in a comforter stuffed with rabbit fur. I’m going to wrap myself up in one stuffed with duck feathers! Who’s cosier?”

“ _What?_ That’s not a valid...”

**“Who’s cosier, Malfoy?!”**

“You’re not even…”

“Answer the question!” Ron snarled. “Say it say it say…”

“Fine!” Malfoy yelled, slamming his fist on the wheel. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were glinting dangerously. “Fine, alright?! I concede!”

Ron sneered. Oh, that wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t _nearly_ good enough.

“Say it,” he gritted out. “You have to _say_ it.”

Malfoy looked like he might just rear back and bite. But he grit his teeth, lifted his chin and held up the white flag. “Ducks are good,” he bit out. “Rabbits are bad. Happy?”

“ _Thank_ you,” Ron snapped.

Malfoy just glared at the world in general and slammed down on the accelerator again. “Worst road trip _ever_.”

For once, Ron was in complete agreement with the git.

 

****

 

By the time evening rolled around, Harry was exhausted. There was just so much that went into planning a wedding. If he had to look at any more buffet selections or hear one more toast or go over the wedding vows one more time, he was going to take a pair of pointy garden shears right through Blaise’s suit collection.

So, he decided to wind down. He left his room and headed outside to the gardens. An overly sympathetic front desk clerk (Oh dear, you’re here _alone?_ I _promise_ it’ll get better) had given him a map to the lighthouse. No time like the present, right? Merlin knows he was going to have no time tomorrow...and who knew when he would be coming back?

He passed through the lawns. It was a full moon and the stars were bright. It really was beautiful out here. Harry thought of Blaise and Ginny practicing their dancing together, waltzing on the floor and probably tripping over each other’s feet. Ginny didn’t quite have the hang of it yet. They were so happy. And he thought of Ron, hurtling across the country to be with Hermione again. Something in his chest tightened slightly and he quickened his steps.

The lighthouse was in the middle of nowhere and he had to tramp through half a mile of shrubbery to get there. It was old and probably hadn’t been in use since the early 90s. But there was a light shining from the top and the stars were still out and for the first time in a really long time, Harry felt like he _had_ to do this.

So he climbed. He climbed up the rickety ladder— as carefully as he could— until he finally stood on top of that old, rusty lighthouse.

It was beautiful.

“Wow,” Harry breathed, looking up at the sky. He felt closer to it, somehow. Like not everything was out of reach. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he just couldn’t see it because he hadn’t climbed high enough yet. But he would get there. Some day.

So, Harry stood out there alone and made a promise to himself— and to the future Love of His Life.

“When I find you, I’m bringing you here. We’re going to see the stars together on a night just like this one. And I’ll look back and tell you this story. I promise I’ll find you. Wherever you are.”


	4. Chapter 4

**The Road Trip: 6 hours in...**

 

“I’m here,” Malfoy repeated for the hundredth time, manhandling the mobile phone to his ear. “I don’t know where ‘here’ is, Blaise. Somewhere on the highway. Yes, I swear I’ll be there soon. I don’t know, another six hours? No, I will not consider using a Time Turner. Okay, bye.”

Ron rolled his eyes and looked out the window. The countryside passed by as they cruised down the highway. It was so boring. He was almost considering speaking to Malfoy again. Of course, that wasn’t really an option. It was _still_ Malfoy and the Rabbit Duck Altercation had summarily proven that that would never change.

Rabbits. Ugh.

That being said, it was _really_ boring. Ron hated long car trips. Of course he had only ever been on one back in Second Year— and that was more flight and less drive. But even then sitting for hours with nothing to do but watch the occasional cloud go by had sucked. And out here, it was getting dark and there was nothing to look at. Just trees and bushes and that dog over there and…

Wait, a dog?

“Zitch dog!”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Oh, great. _Now_ he wanted to talk. Ron shrugged and looked out the window again. “It’s a game,” he elaborated reluctantly. “Muggles play it when they drive out for long trips like this.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So how do you play?” Malfoy clarified.

Ron cocked his head. Really? Okay then. “It’s simple. Every time you see a dog, you say ‘zitch dog’. Whoever gets the most zitch dogs by the time the trip is over, wins.”

Malfoy scoffed and shook his head. “That’s stupid.”

Of course. Why had he even started hoping this trip might not be completely excruciating? Ron scowled and turned back to the window. “Fine, forget about it.”

“No, I mean it,” Malfoy went on. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever...zitch dog.”

What?

“What?” Ron blurted, whipping around to gape at him.

“I said that sounds juvenile and childish and completely...zitch dog.”

“Hey!” Ron protested indignantly. “You can’t just…”

“I just did. And Zitch dog, zitch dog and zitch dog.”

Ron gaped at him.

“Dalmatian triplets,” Malfoy explained.

“Okay, that is cheating,” Ron finally protested. “I didn’t know you were - zitch dog - playing.”

Well, what else can we do? I don’t know about you but I’m bored.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll play if you - zitch dog - want to,” Ron replied, trying and failing to sound begrudging about it. “But no cheating or being all Slytherin or…”

“I’m sorry. Being all ‘Slytherin’?”

“You know, trying to rack up points you didn’t win and all. Kind of like...well, _you_ in literally every Quidditch match back in Hogwarts.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Malfoy deadpanned. “I knocked Potter off his broom _once._ You want to talk about real cheating? How about The League Cup Debacle of 1995? Puddlemere’s Benjy Williams made an illegal feint halfway through the match and knocked Cannon’s Seeker Galvin Gudgeon halfway across the field, securing the Snitch and winning the Cup by cheating. It was a rotten foul by all standards.” Malfoy sneered and twisted the steering wheel a little viciously. “Oh and incidentally, Benjy Williams was a _Gryffindor_. So, where do _you_ get off making all Slytherins out to be…”

“Don’t you dare throw the League Cup of 1995 in my face!” Ron snapped. “I still cringe when I think about it. Williams was a disgrace to the House and the Cannons totally deserved that win!”

“Damn right they did,” Malfoy muttered. “Fucking Benjy Williams.”

“ _Fucking_ Williams!” Ron agreed vehemently. Then the conversation caught up to him. Ron’s eyes widened and he turned to Malfoy again. “Wait a minute. _You’re_ a Cannons’ fan?”

“Only their biggest fan ever, Weasley.”

Ron’s jaw dropped right to the floor. “Me too,” he whispered. “They’re just…”

“Awesome,” Malfoy finished solemnly.

“ _So_ awesome.”

Silence descended in the car again. But it wasn’t the strained tension from before. It was almost comfortable— the kind of solidarity that only the most brilliant team in the history of Quidditch could have ever brought about. Malfoy was a Cannon’s fan.

A _Cannons’_ fan.

It was almost enough to make Ron smile. Almost.

“Weasley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to stop somewhere and pick up a few beers for the road? I’m buying.”

And it just kept getting better and better. This time, Ron grinned. And despite the knowledge that Hermione would murder him if she knew, he nodded in agreement. “That sounds good.”

 

****

 

The next morning brought it’s own share of crises. Harry woke up to violent banging at his door. By the time he had stumbled out of bed and managed to open it, Ginny was already in the process of stumbling in— looking rather distraught.

Harry sighed. “Dare I ask?”

Ginny swallowed a few times. “I just got The Talk,” she whispered. “From Blaise’s _mom_.”

Oh?

_Oh._

“Wow,” Harry blurted, just managing to stifle a surge of laughter. “That must have been rough. 

“She told me to lie back and think of Quidditch.” Ginny shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “And some other stuff I can’t mention in mixed company.”

Okay, that did it. Harry burst out laughing, ducking as she threw a pillow in his face. “Hey, don’t take this out on me,” Harry chided. “You _could_ have hitched your wagon to all of this...” He gestured grandly to himself and Ginny rolled her eyes. “But no,” Harry went on, tutting disapprovingly. “You wanted the bad boy.”

“It’s not too late for us,” she teased. “Come on. You and me, let’s elope.”

“Oh no,” Harry told her firmly. “You made your bed and now you have to lie back and think of Quidditch in it.”

Ginny moaned and buried herself under his covers. “Sit with me,” she ordered, patting the bed.

“But I’m supposed to be doing something important. You know— all that Best Man stuff…”

“I’m the Bride,” Ginny informed him huffily. “There is nothing more important than me.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with stone cold logic, could he?

“So,” he said, sitting down obediently. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Ginny replied. She leaned into his shoulder with a small sigh. “I didn’t really see it coming. I always thought I’d be on my own, doing my own thing. And now...”

“And now?”

“And now, it turns out I don’t have to do it alone. I have someone I can count on,” she said softly. “I keep thinking that I’ll wreck it— that I’ll panic and just call the whole thing off. I really hope I don’t but...what if I do?”

“You’re not going to wreck it.”

Ginny bit her lip. “I wrecked us, didn’t I? You and I were good together but I didn’t stick around to find out what we could have had. I just took off. I keep thinking that maybe this is my thing. Maybe, I’m just the girl who runs away.”

Harry sighed and squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re not the only one who ran away from us,” he told her. “The difference between Blaise and me is that he’ll come after you. You could run to the ends of the earth and that bloke will take the next Portkey and come right on after you, no questions asked. That’s how much you mean to him. That’s why you’re right for each other.”

Ginny smile brightened and he knew he’d said the right thing. “And when did you get so wise and insightful?” she teased.

“Two words: daytime television.”

They laughed and she punched his arm. “You’re right about one thing though,” she quipped. “Blaise has been a rock through this whole wedding thing. He’s been so calm and collected. I think he might actually be cut out for this.”

“That’s our boy,” Harry grinned. “He..."

**“Harry!”**

They jumped as Blaise’s howl was punctuated by a violent banging that all but brought the door down. “For the love of all that’s good and holy, tell me you’re in there!”

Ginny grinned fondly. “And _there_ it is.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “In here, Blaise,” he called out. “By the way, just a head’s up— I’m in bed with your fiancée.” 

“Ginny’s there too? Fantastic!”

Blaise barged in and promptly barricaded the door shut, putting up at least six Locking Charms in the process. Then he sagged against the wall, panting like he’d run a marathon.

“What happened to you?” Ginny demanded, taking in his less than impeccable appearance.

“Your brothers happened,” Blaise informed her. “I just got the Shovel Talk from Bill...”

“Oh sweetie, that’s terrible…”

“...and Charlie and the twins. Plus, I _think_ Percy made me sign some sort of legal waiver.” He fixed the two of them with a pleading look. “Don’t make me go back out there.”

“Sit,” Harry ordered, patting the bedspread.

Blaise flopped down gratefully. “Is it too early for drinks?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Ginny replied. She grinned and whipped out a bottle from her bag. “But since when has that stopped us?”

“And this is why I’m marrying you,” Blaise replied, pulling her in for a kiss. 

Harry sat with them, torn between rolling his eyes and grinning fondly. Finally, he went for the obvious choice and pulled out his wand, summoning three glasses over. “Last drink for the single people,” he announced solemnly. “In four days, you two are going to be married, official parents and in Morocco, apparently…”

“We’re still working out the kinks for our year abroad,” Ginny put in. She smiled and leaned against Blaise. “But I think we’ll work it out, right?”

“It’s what makes it an adventure,” Blaise agreed.

Harry smiled and handed them a glass of Scotch each. “To the two most amazing single people I have ever met,” he intoned solemnly, raising his glass. “And I just know you’re going to make _the_ most awesome couple in the world. Also, please don’t tell Hermione I said that.”

“Hear hear,” Ginny agreed, clinking their glasses. “To us!”

“To being awesome,” Blaise put in.

“To being friends,” Harry added.

And if that wasn’t worth a five hundred Galleon bottle of Glen McKenna, Harry didn’t know what was. They spent the morning in the room, just friends being together. Maybe for the last time in a long while, he thought wistfully. He didn’t know what the future held or where their lives might take them. But for now, they had this. They had each other.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Has anyone heard from Ron yet?” Ginny asked suddenly.

Okay, well maybe one thing...

“He’ll be here today,” Harry replied. “I just hope the trip wasn’t too rough on him.”

 

****

**The Road Trip: 9 hours in...**

 

“Best road trip ever!”

Ron grinned from ear to ear, taking another swig of his beer. He meant it too. There was alcohol, there was zitch dog, there was music...and frankly, Malfoy’s selection wasn’t that bad.

“ _But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more_...come on, sing with me, Malfoy!”

“Okay, that’s it.” Malfoy said firmly, reaching for Ron’s beer. “I’m cutting you off.”

“No!” Ron gasped in horror.

 _“_ Yes, _”_ Malfoy retorted, wrestling the bottle from him and stashing it away despite Ron’s best forlorn expression. “We’re almost at the Inn and your pregnant and emotionally unstable wife will have my head if I brought you there in less than stellar condition.”

“Mione’s not unstable,” an affronted Ron informed him.

Malfoy scoffed. “Oh yes, she is. And I doubt the pregnancy is doing her any favours.”

Ron considered that for a few minutes and decided that Malfoy had a point.“She’s been a li’l moody,” he conceded fairly. “But tha’s okay. I love her.”

Malfoy’s lips twitched in amusement but he refrained from making any wisecracks. Ron didn’t notice, still caught up in thoughts of Hermione and their baby. His grin widened.

“Baby's due in two months,” he said. “Can you _believe_ it, Malfoy? In two months, I’m gonna be a father.”

“Congratulations,” Malfoy replied quietly. “You must be thrilled.”

“It’s awesome,” Ron agreed with a dopey smile. A thought struck him suddenly and he turned to his companion. “What ‘bout you? Any teeny tiny Malfoys running about?”

Malfoy pursed his lips, looking straight at the road. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Weasley.”

“Oh, come on,” Ron whined, poking haphazardly at him. Malfoy scowled and waved him off, but a slightly sloshed Ron could be quite persistent. “I thought we were getting along,” he argued. “Did you ever see that coming? We both like the Cannons, and we played zitch dog and I bought you the beer and…”

“ _I_ bought _you_ beer.”

“See? This is working out great!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It’s still none of your business.”

Oh, brilliant. They were back to sulking then. Malfoy was glaring now, looking dead ahead and ignoring him completely. No, Ron decided firmly. That wasn’t going to work. They still had Merlin only knew how many hours left before they reached Farhampton, and semi-pleasant Malfoy was miles better than angry, sulking Malfoy. Besides, Malfoy took his beer so it was only fair that he answered Ron’s question. The logic was sound.

“D’you remember what you said back at the station?” Ron asked finally.

“I said a lot of stuff back at the station.”

“That’s true,” Ron conceded. "But in the middle of all that crazy, a few things kind of stuck out. It sounded like you were saying— I don’t know— like you listen to people a lot.”

Malfoy snorted. “Weasley, you don’t know the half of it.”

“Right, got it,” Ron said, waving him off impatiently. “But you don’t _really_ have someone to talk to about your own stuff, do you? All I’m saying is, I don’t really care. You and I are _never_ going to see each other after this wedding. And it’s not like I can go anywhere right now so...you know, it’s your call.”

Malfoy wasn’t taking the bait. He was ignoring Ron now, driving down the winding roads with a slightly wistful expression on his face. There was nothing for it. Ron was just resigning himself to another hour with nothing to do but look out the window when…

“I’ve been alone a long time,” Malfoy said quietly. “Shockingly, not many people want to get to know the disinherited, gay, ex-Death Eater.”

“Yeah?” Ron frowned thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you were bent.”

Malfoy’s hands clenched at the wheel. “Yes Weasley, I’m bent,” he gritted out. “Feel free to follow my father’s example and jump out of the car anytime you like.”

Wow. Talk about issues. Harry wasn’t nearly this defensive when he came out. But then, he’d had support. All his friends around him, telling him it was fine and nothing had really changed. From the little Malfoy had deigned to tell him, it was obvious that he’d been on his own through it all. That must have been tough.

No wonder he was so prickly about it. Did he think Ron was going to give him a hard time for being bent? Really? The idea was preposterous but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that was exactly what Malfoy expected. It took Ron all of two seconds to come to a decision.

“Stop the car,” he ordered.

Malfoy slammed down on the brakes so fast that Ron nearly flew out of his seat. His hands were tight on the steering wheel and he was staring dead ahead— no doubt expecting Ron to jump out and make a break for it. Well, Malfoy or not, that wasn’t going to happen. There was a line of common decency and Ron wasn’t the kind of bloke to cross it.

“Switch seats with me. I’m driving.”

Malfoy frowned in confusion, but quickly schooled his expression. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been driving for hours,” Ron clarified. “And we’re nearly there. I think I can handle the last stretch. You can relax for a bit, have that last beer, if you want. You look like you could use one.”

“Weasley, you’ve been _drinking_. I’m not letting you drive me anywhere until...”

“Oh, relax,” Ron retorted. “Ginny taught me a nifty little spell for situations just like these.” He pulled out his wand and cast the charm. Immediately, the buzz of alcohol wore off, leaving him fresh and alert. He stowed the wand away and grinned at Malfoy. “Not bad, yeah? She picked it up in Argentina. It’s like the opposite of _Confundo_.”

Malfoy looked stunned. His eyes flicked from Ron’s open, unwavering expression to the wand. But then his shoulders relaxed. “You’re right,” he said finally. “That is a pretty clever spell.”

“And bloody useful! You won’t believe how many times we’ve cast it on Blaise when he isn’t looking. Now, move it, will you? I’m taking a crack at this driving thing.”

Malfoy still looked hesitant but he allowed Ron to take the wheel. He didn’t protest when they started off again, a tad shakily. Ron kept his eyes on the road, suppressing a smile when Malfoy finally reached for the last beer.

“Weasley.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for taking the wheel,” Malfoy said. “I appreciate it.”

Ron nodded and cruised down the road. He had a feeling it would be smooth sailing from here on out.

 

****

 

“This is a disaster!” Blaise shrilled.

Harry sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m sorry about your bachelor party but it is _impossible_ to find a strip club in Farhampton at nine in the morning. Unless you’ve changed your mind about The Crab Shack, you’re going to have to settle for a drink at the bar.”

“Not that!” Blaise snapped, shoving a parchment scroll in his face. Harry frowned and accepted the guest list, looking it over again. Blaise started pacing, practically ricocheting off the walls.

“My mother invited Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy to the wedding!” he explained, practically hyperventilating. “Oh, this is bad. This is so very bad…”

“Okay, slow down a minute.” Harry frowned at the list, somewhat confused. He wasn’t Lucius Malfoy’s biggest fan but was it really such a big deal? They could just stick him at a table in the back and pretend he wasn’t there. “I’m not really seeing the problem here.”

“Oh, you will,” Blaise snapped. “When _he_ gets here, he’s going to freak about this! Oh gods, there’s going to be hell to pay for this one. Mother could have mentioned she was inviting _Lucius_ to my...”

None of this was making any sense. “When who gets here?” Harry asked.

Blaise’s harassed response was cut off by the shrill ring of Harry’s phone. “Hold that thought,” Harry told Blaise. “It’s Ron.”

He ignored Blaise’s sputtering and took the call. “Ron, please tell me...you are? So, how long before...wait, you’re already here? Brilliant! No, stay in the lobby. We’re coming down.”

“Ron’s finally here,” Harry announced, gesturing at Blaise to follow as he hurtled down to the lobby. “Come on!”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

The anticipation was building. The children were absolutely silent and hanging on to his every word. Even Scorpius’ never ending spiel of complaints had finally run its course.

“It’s happening,” Al declared, grabbing hold of an unsuspecting James and shaking him violently. “It’s finally happening!”

“Is it odd that I’m actually a little excited?” Scorpius asked with a frown. “I mean, it’s nearly over.”

Lily swatted his arm and gazed imploringly at Harry. “So, this is it, right Daddy?” she asked hopefully. “You and Father met and fell in love and lived happily ever after?”

Harry winced. “Well…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 6 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~

 

Ron’s friendly face was as welcome a sight as ever. Harry pulled him into a hug as soon as he was in reach. “Good to see you, mate. We were worried you wouldn’t show.”

Ron returned the hug and thumped his back. “After what I went through trying to get here? Harry, you are not going to _believe_ who I…”

“Ron!”

Harry was unceremoniously shoved aside as Hermione caught sight of her husband. Ron’s smile widened tenfold and he hurried over to wrap her in his arms. “Missed you,” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Hermione curled into his chest, smiling in contentment.

“I missed you too,” she whispered. “How on earth did you…”

“A nine hour drive through the rain,” Ron said, smiling down at her. “It’s going to take more than a little thunderstorm to keep me from you.”

“You drove?” Hermione sounded rather horrified at the thought. “But...”

“Okay, fine. So maybe I didn’t do _all_ the driving. I actually got a lift from…”

“Bride on the move! Everyone out of the way! Move it or lose it!” Ginny pushed and jostled her way over to Ron, pulling him into a hug as soon as he was in reach. “You made it! I never doubted you for a second! Blaise, give me my money back.”

“You couldn’t have _just_ missed the rehearsal dinner, could you?” Blaise grumbled as he approached and forked a Galleon over to a grinning Ginny. Then he smiled and clapped Ron on the shoulder. “But seriously, we would have killed you.”

“Okay, let the man breathe,” Harry grinned. “He’s here, right? That’s the important part. So why don’t we head to the bar and get this party...”

Later— when he told this story over and over again— Harry wouldn’t be able to explain just why he felt the need to turn around mid-conversation at that particular moment. There may have been a perfectly rational reason for it. Maybe he heard the click of the door opening. Or maybe it was because he heard footsteps or saw a reflection in a mirror. Or maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe it was fate or destiny or some other complicated unseen force at work.

Whatever the reason, that was the very moment Harry turned around…

...and came face to face with Draco Malfoy for the first time in six years.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

**“Yes!”**

“Finally!”

“It’s happening! I told you it was happening!” 

“Al, you’re going to tear my arm off if you keep doing that.”

“People, please! Let me finish. So, there I was, seeing your Father for the first time in forever…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 6 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“Malfoy,” Harry whispered.

For a second, he thought he might have been mistaken. The bloke was tall, slender and blond, but surely there were other blonds in the area. Then he turned around. Instinctively, Harry catalogued every feature— the grey eyes, the sharp features, the exceptionally pale skin. It was a perfect match. Oh Merlin, he _wasn’t_ seeing things. That was definitely Malfoy standing by the door, frowning as he looked around, heading to the front desk…

_Malfoy..._

Draco Malfoy had just walked in the door. Harry staggered slightly. Best Man or not, he wasn’t sure what to do with this new development. He had _not_ been prepared for this. _No one_ had prepared him for this.

“Malfoy!” Ron spotted the blond and called out cheerfully, waving to get his attention. “Over here!”

Harry’s jaw dropped right to the floor. No one prepared him for _that_ either.

Malfoy looked up, his grey eyes zeroing in on their little group. He must have seen Blaise first because he smiled and raised his hand in a partial wave. And then those grey eyes turned to Harry. Malfoy’s eyes widened. He dropped his hand. Also the guitar.

“Draco,” Blaise greeted with a bright smile. His eyes flicked from Harry to Malfoy and back again. His smile faltered and he took a slight step back.

“Malfoy?” Hermione managed. She sounded shocked, but not as displeased as she probably should have been.

“Malfoy!” Ginny exclaimed. She just sounded excited.

Harry would worry about this disturbing lack of reaction later. At the moment, he had a very uncomfortable situation to deal with because Malfoy was still gaping at him and oh Merlin, this was happening...

“Potter?” Malfoy blurted.

At least his reaction was spot on. He looked so shocked that Harry thought he might actually keel over. Not that Harry wasn’t experiencing similar feelings...

“Malfoy,” he managed.

This was happening. This was actually happening to him.

Then Malfoy sneered and crossed his arms. “Oh, bloody brilliant. It’s Scarhead _._ ”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry had to stifle his laughter with a healthy swig of Scotch as four sets of jaws dropped simultaneously. “And that’s the story of how I met your Father,” he finished solemnly. Then he nodded and got up, dusting his hands off meaningfully. “So, who’s hungry? I think we’ve got some pizza left over…”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Scorpius blurted.

James seemed to share his sentiments. “Whoa whoa _whoa!”_ he barked, making indignant slashing motions with his arm. “What was that?”

“That’s the story,” Harry replied with a shrug. “You know, The End and all that. Seriously, does anyone want pizza?”

“You can’t end it there!” Al shrilled in outrage. “Why would you...who _does_ that? I call do-over!”

“Daddy!” Lily looked distraught, poor thing. “There’s _got_ to be more!”

“Oh, there is,” Harry agreed. “But I figured I’d cut it short. I’m sure you lot have better things to do than listen to your old man’s stories all night.”

 _“No!”_ Surprisingly, this was from Scorpius. He was having a little trouble processing this. “That is _evil!_ James, do something!”

“Like what?” James asked. He shook his head and turned back to Harry. “Dad, come on. You’re making Scorpius cry.”

Harry took a few deep breaths to compose himself before turning back to his offspring. “So, you guys actually _want_ me to finish this story?”

“Yes!” they screeched.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Well, alright. But only because you insist. So there we were…”

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Year 6 (contd.)** ~*~*~*~*~

 

It was that tone that did it. That snarky, condescending, grating, _infuriating_ tone that he’d _never_ thought he would have to suffer through again. That was what brought Harry crashing back to reality.

“You,” he hissed.

Malfoy smirked and tilted his chin, the very picture of arrogance. “Potter,” he drawled.

Harry’s fists clenched. Something was happening to him. He could feel the agitation building up inside him. Just the sight of Malfoy standing there indolently— Malfoy with his grey eyes and pointed chin, looking at him through narrowed eyes, as if Harry was something unpleasant on the underside of his shoe— oh, it was all coming back.

A clenching, roiling feeling deep in his gut, pushing down any semblance of rationality and bringing out every combative instinct he possessed. Just like Hogwarts. Just like those seven years of Malfoy sneering and snapping at him, riling him to the brink of insanity, turning his every waking moment into a never ending battle to come out on top. Malfoy was feeling it too, he could tell. Those grey eyes narrowed and Malfoy took a step forward, clearly intending to start something. Oh, bring it on. Harry was ready. _Bring_ it...

“Draco! Look everyone, it’s Draco!” Blaise hurtled out of nowhere, strategically situating himself between the two.

Malfoy’s attention snapped back to him. For a second, his eyes softened. Harry noticed the guarded expression disappearing as he smiled genuinely at Blaise, pulling him into a brotherly hug. “You know I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said.

Blaise grinned and clapped his back. “I know. Merlin, I’m glad you’re here.”

Harry gaped at them, unable to do much else.

Seriously? He was glad _Malfoy_ was here? Where...where had Malfoy even _come_ from?!

“And there’s the Bride,” Malfoy drawled, releasing Blaise and nodding at Ginny. “ _¿Cómo andás?_ You look radiant, by the way.”

Wait, what?!

“ _Todo bien_ , Malfoy,” Ginny retorted with a teasing grin and not a hint of animosity. “By the way, good call on that little bet we made. I’m...really glad you decided to come home.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Harry’s jaw dropped a few more inches. What the _hell_ was happening?

“And Granger,” Malfoy added. “May I offer my congratulations? Also, should you be drinking wine in your condition?”

“Grape juice. It’s _grape_ _juice_ ,” Hermione grumbled. But then she shook her head and smiled fondly. “It’s good to see you again, Malfoy. How did the things work out with the band?”

“Well enough,” Malfoy replied with a shrug. “Although I daresay, things worked out better for you.”

Hermione smiled and raised her glass.

_What what what?!_

“By the way, Weasley— you owe me a drink at the bar. You lost the last game of zitch dog.”

“Sure, mate. Fair’s fair.”

_Mate? Mate?!_

And that was it. That, right there was where Harry lost the fragile hold on whatever was left of his self control.

“Time out,” he announced shakily. “Time **out!** ”

Every head in the lobby whipped around in his direction. That included Malfoy, the front desk clerk and other assorted guests who were probably under the impression that the Best Man had gone round the twist. Harry didn’t care. Everyone had gone _crazy_ and they needed to shut up so he could fix it.

“Have you all lost your marbles?” he demanded incredulously. “This is Malfoy!”

“An astute observation, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “Nice blazer, by the way. It’s good to know Madame Malkin’s is helping out the less fortunate.”

“Oh boy,” Hermione mumbled. Malfoy just smirked, looking quite pleased with himself for that clever little barb.

“I wouldn’t talk,” Harry spat, taking in the prat’s attire. Since when did Malfoy wear denims? And how _dare_ he pull them off? “Hey Malfoy, The Weird Sisters just called. Even _they_ don’t want those clothes back.”

Malfoy’s grey eyes narrowed a fraction. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Scarhead. I was worried that this might actually turn out to be a civilised affair.”

“If it’s not up to your high and mighty standards, you can leave,” Harry snapped. “What are you even doing here in the first place?”

“I have every right to be here, Potter,” Malfoy belted back with a sneer. “My best friend is getting married. If you think I’m going to...”

“Your best friend?” Harry shrilled indignantly. “ _Your_ best friend? Since _when?_ No, that’s where you’re mistaken, Malfoy. _I’m_ Blaise’s best friend.”

Apparently, those were fighting words. Malfoy’s jaw tightened as he stared Harry down. “Actually, this is where you’re mistaken, Pothead. _I’m_ Blaise’s best friend. Always have been, always will be.”

“I’m his best friend!” Harry shouted.

“I am!” Malfoy yelled back.

“Ladies!” Ginny yelled, doing her best to step in between them. “You’re _both_ pretty!”

Harry ignored her and rounded up on a visibly paling groom. “Blaise! Tell this tosser I’m your best friend!”

“Blaise, say _I’m_ your best friend!” Malfoy demanded, glaring daggers at Harry.

“Not much fun when it happens to you, is it Zabini?” Ron put in smugly.

Blaise swallowed audibly. He stared at both of them, looking a bit caught in headlights. “You’re...both my best friends?” 

“That’s it,” Malfoy stated flatly. “You’re dead to me.”

Blaise groaned and rubbed his temples. Ginny shrugged and patted his shoulder.

“Ha!” Harry cried, pointing a triumphant finger at Malfoy. He sensed he was being a little childish here— particularly if Hermione’s eye roll was anything to go by— but he didn’t really care. So long as he got one up on Malfoy, Harry was fine with that. “I told you so. It’s not even a bleeding contest! I’m the Best Man, so I rank first on default anyway. Well, nice seeing you, Malfoy. Feel free to pick up a fruit basket on your way out.”

Malfoy froze halfway through the taunting spree. He turned back to Harry very, very slowly. For a second, there was no sound in the lobby save for a quiet whimper from Blaise. Then Malfoy spoke. “What do you mean _you’re_ the Best Man?” he asked. His voice was barely a hiss.

Blaise squeaked and took a few paces back.

Harry frowned at Malfoy. “I mean I’m his Best Man. You know— run the show, make the toast…”

“I know what a Best Man is, Potter!” Malfoy snapped, sounding just on this side of livid now. His steely gaze drifted to Blaise who visibly cringed. “I’m just wondering why you think you’re Blaise’s Best Man when he asked _me_ two months ago!”

Harry’s eyes widened. “He what?”

“You what?” Ginny echoed, gaping incredulously at her fiancé. “Blaise! You asked Harry to do it ages ago!”

“Well, that’s true…”

“You told me I was to be your Best Man two months ago,” Malfoy confirmed through clenched teeth.

Blaise winced. “That’s true too,” he conceded unhappily.

Oh _gods._

That was it. Harry was going to set something on fire. Blaise, most likely.

“Is this true?” he demanded, turning on Blaise again. “You hustled _both_ of us into being your Best Man?”

“Best Men,” Ron promptly corrected.

Malfoy and Harry turned to him with flat, dangerously blank expressions. Ron shrugged and carried on. “I mean if it’s both of you, it’s ‘Best Men’, right? Right? I mean, come on. Grammar is important, people.”

“That’s right, Ron,” Ginny sighed, patting his arm. “Poke the dragon with a stick.”

“They’re not going to hex me,” Ron scoffed, waving her off carelessly. “Blaise on the other hand, is a dead man.”

The mention of Blaise seemed to bring Malfoy back to his current predicament. He turned back on the unfortunate groom. “So this is your doing, is it?” he gritted. His fingers twitched dangerously and he looked about a hair's breadth from pulling his wand out. “Blaise, I hope you realise I’m going to kick your arse all the way back to London.”

“Get in line,” Harry growled.

Blaise reacted to this unfortunate and very dangerous situation in true form. He flashed them a wide, insincere grin and held out his hands in a gesture of placation. “Boys. Mates. There is a _very_ reasonable explanation for all of this.”

“Start talking,” Harry gritted.

Blaise nodded and opened his mouth...

...and then he turned tail and fled like wolves were chasing him.

“Blaise!” Malfoy howled, chasing after him at once. “Get back here! We’re not finished, damn it!”

Harry watched as he took off, debating whether or not to follow. Finally, he decided to let Malfoy have at Blaise first. He had something else to take care of.

“You three,” he growled at his friends. Hermione cleared her throat, Ron looked away pointedly and Ginny coughed delicately and fiddled with her sleeves. “Group meeting,” Harry informed them. “Now.”

He stormed off, leaving them no choice but to follow.

“Oh, great,” Ginny grumbled sulkily, trudging after him. “Now we’re _all_ in trouble.”

 

****

 

An hour later, Harry was sitting in his room and staring blankly at a wall as his friends engaged him in one of the most surreal conversations of his entire life.

“...and that’s my story,” Ron finished. He shuffled uneasily as Harry just continued to stare at the wall, seemingly in shock. Ron cleared his throat and tapped Harry’s shoulder. “Harry? You still with us?”

“Give me a second.”

Ginny reached out and patted his knee. “Take your time.”

Harry shook his head dazedly, trying to come to terms with what Ron had just told him. “Okay. Let...me see if I understand this,” he finally began. “You ran into Malfoy at Kings Cross, rented a car and drove down here with him.”

Ron nodded. “That’s about the size of it, yeah.”

Harry replayed that image in his head for the millionth time and it still refused to make sense. “Okay, I’m going to need to go over this again.” Ron sighed wearily and Harry pointedly ignored him. He needed to understand this. “You _voluntarily_ got into a car with _Malfoy_. Malfoy the Wonder Ferret. Malfoy the prat. The bloke who used to flick insect bits at us in Potions class. _That_ Malfoy just showed up and offered to drive you here and you were okay with that.”

“Harry, it’s been years!” Ron protested. “What was I supposed to do? Not come to my sister’s wedding? There was no other way to get here. _You’re_ the one who suggested the car thing in the first place.”

“Excuse me for not anticipating that Malfoy would be your travel companion!” Harry snapped. “I wasn’t exactly expecting him to appear out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Ginny said.

“He really does,” Hermione agreed thoughtfully. “That boy is everywhere.”

“Anyway,” Ron cut in hastily, because Harry was going a dangerous shade of purple again. “It wasn’t that bad. I mean, okay it wasn’t the best situation in the world but it turned out alright. I got here, didn’t I? And Malfoy wasn’t so awful. He bought beer, we played zitch dog and...”

“You drank with Malfoy?” Harry sputtered indignantly. “I’m pretty sure that’s called _betrayal_ , Ron. What’s he like now, your best friend? First Blaise, then you— am I seriously losing all my friends to bloody Malfoy?!”

“Harry, be reasonable,” Hermione chided. “People change. Malfoy’s really not that bad anymore.”

“And how would you know?” Harry grumbled. “Oh let me guess, _you’re_ secretly friends with him too.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _friends_ exactly...”

She shifted uncomfortably. Harry’s eyes widened as ominous realisation set in.  “No,” he whispered. “Hermione, _no!_ ”

“Look, it wasn’t...okay, fine!” Hermione snapped. “I met him in Brussels. It was a very long time ago. I was going through a rough time and he was just _there_. So we talked and well, long story short, Malfoy helped me figure some things out. That’s when I decided to come back home.”

“Really?” Ron exclaimed. “Damn, I should probably get him that drink then.”

“Oh my **god!** ” Harry screeched.

Ginny cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I suppose now would be a bad time to mention that I met Malfoy in Argentina?” she asked.

Harry groaned and held his head in his hands. He was getting a migraine, he just knew it.

“You’re not serious,” Hermione said sceptically.

“No, really,” Ginny insisted. “I was sort of homesick and he was there too. We talked a bit.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “It was nice running into someone from home.”

“Talk about a small world,” Ron mused thoughtfully.

Great. Just great.

“So, this is happening,” Harry said flatly. “This is...this is real _._ _Everyone_ has met Malfoy. All of you have somehow crossed paths with that git during the most important moments of our lives. You know what, I’m offended. How come _I_ didn’t get to meet Malfoy? Why wasn’t _I_ invited to the Malfoy Reunion Club?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ron scoffed. “If it was a club, we’d have t-shirts.”

“Maybe you should get t-shirts!” Harry snarled. “Here’s a catchy slogan: _I fraternized with the enemy and all I got was this stupid t-shirt!”_

“It meant nothing to us!” Ginny protested.

“We were thinking of you the whole time!” Ron added.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hermione cut in with an exasperated sigh. She reached out and patted a sulking Harry’s hand. “None of us planned this,” she told him sternly. “All we’re saying is Malfoy is a different person now. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for you to get to know him. Especially, if you’re both the Best Men...”

“No!” Harry snapped. “I don’t need to...I _already_ know Malfoy just fine! He’s a prat. He’s a git. He’s the wanker who made my life miserable in Hogwarts. I don’t need to know _any_ more than that, thanks. And now...now he just _waltzes_ in and suddenly, he’s everyone favourite?! Well, let me ask you this— where has Malfoy been for six years? He wasn’t around. He’s not a part of _any_ of this. He hasn’t been through the stuff we’ve been through together. So why does he get to be Best Man?”

“I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Harry,” Ginny said firmly. “But that’s Blaise’s decision. He gets to decide who his Best Man is and apparently, it’s you _and_ Malfoy. So if I were you, I’d get used to it.”

“Yeah?” Harry sneered. “Well, I’m sorry to have to break it to _you_ , but I’m the one who’s had to put with Blaise for six years. He’s _my_ friend and he’s a damn good bloke. But he’s an _arse_ for bringing Malfoy into this! So I’m going to be the _Best_ Best Man at that bastard’s wedding and then I’m going to kill him! Because that’s what _real_ friends do! Goodbye!”

Harry stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Ron blinked in the ensuing silence. “Is it just me or is Harry’s concept of friendship a little warped?” he asked.

Hermione shrugged. “He’ll get over it. He’s always been a little crazy when it comes to Malfoy.”

Ginny started nodding in agreement, but stopped as her expression turned speculative. “That’s true, isn’t it?” she said slowly.

Ron blinked. “I’m sorry, where are we going with this?”

Ginny’s frown deepened and she shook her head. “I’m just saying that Malfoy does inspire a pretty intense reaction. Have you seen him act that way about anyone else? It’s just something to think about, I guess.”

“Yeah, still not following,” Ron told her.

“You know, that’s a good point,” Hermione agreed, nodding slowly. “I can’t remember the last time I saw him this riled up over anyone.”

“I can,” Ginny replied. “Your Sixth Year at Hogwarts. He was tense and irritable and absolutely obsessed with…”

“...anything and everything Malfoy related,” Hermione finished. She shared a look with Ginny. Ron just stared blankly as their eyes widened almost comically.

“So, he hates Malfoy,” he said slowly. “That’s not exactly news.”

 “I don’t think he does,” Ginny grinned.

“In fact,” Hermione added, her smile widening with each word. “I think he ‘doesn’t hate’ Malfoy a _lot._ ”

“Oh, that boy is ‘not hating’ Malfoy so _hard_ ,” Ginny snickered.

Ron just stared blankly as they descended into giggles. “Okay, I’m lost.”

“Don’t worry, Ronniekins,” Ginny replied, looking out in the distance with an ominous gleam in her eyes. “We’ve got this.”

Ron suppressed a groan. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well for anyone.

 

****

 

Blaise wasn’t sure what prompted him to stop in the ballroom and acquire Dani from his mother as he ran for his life with Draco in murderous pursuit, but he was going to chalk it up to equal parts quick thinking and luck— basically, the two fundamentals of his very existence. Whatever the reason, by the time a furious Draco managed to corner him in an empty bedroom, Blaise was armed with the most adorable little girl in the world.

“Before you punch me in the face,” Blaise announced as Draco advanced on him. “Look what I made!”

Dani giggled as he held her out. Draco skidded to an immediate halt. His eyes widened and Dani squealed happily, looking up at him with bright interest.

“Oh,” Draco whispered.

“Draco,” Blaise said softly. “This is my little girl.”

Draco seemed a little shocked. Dani squealed and waved a chubby fist at him and he managed an incredulous laugh. He approached slowly, almost cautiously. “May I?” he asked softly.

Blaise handed Dani over without a word and smiled as an incredulous laugh escaped Draco. Dani gurgled enquiringly at him and his smiled widened. “Hello, angel,” he murmured, bouncing her gently. “I’m your Uncle Draco.”

“Daga,” Dani agreed. She tugged at his hair, making Draco laugh again. He grinned at Blaise. “She’s brilliant.”

Blaise puffed his chest out, visibly preening. “Isn’t she just?”

“Beautiful,” Draco confirmed, bouncing the little girl again.  “I’m still going to kill you, by the way.”

“Damn it,” Blaise grumbled. So much for evasive manoeuvres. “Okay, fine. So maybe I wasn’t _entirely_ truthful about the Best Man thing but…”

Draco scoffed and bounced Dani on his knee. “Your Daddy is a first class git,” he told her solemnly. Dani giggled as he patted her cheek. “See?  She agrees with me.”

“Come on. Are you really going to hold this against me?”

“Well, let’s revisit the scoreboard, shall we?” Draco replied. “You lied to everyone, you tricked me into being your Best Man with Potter and...well, I can’t think of anything else you’ve done but I’ve only been here for about a half hour so I’m holding out.”

Blaise sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Okay, fine. I admit it. I lied to you and Harry. I’m _sorry._ But you know, maybe I did it because I had to. I wanted both my Best Men here— you _and_ Harry. And I knew neither one of you was going to jump for joy at the idea so I...omitted a few details here and there. I just wanted my wedding to be legendary and it’s _not_ going to be legendary if you two aren’t there. So yeah, sue me for trying to get my best friends to join in on my special day.”

“Special day?” Draco drawled. “Well, now we know who the Bride is.” He smirked as Blaise squawked in outrage. “Okay, fine. So maybe I get why you pulled this stunt. But I still can’t believe you picked _Potter_ as your Best Man.”

“He’s one of my best friends. And by the way? You didn’t have to be such a wanker to him the moment you walked in the door. ‘Scarhead’? Really?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It was an impulse _._ The prat brings out the worst in me. There’s just something about him.” He turned to glower accusingly at Blaise. “And apparently, you two are best mates now.  Can I at least ask when the hell that happened?”

“When you left,” Blaise replied quietly. “About six years ago. I needed a friend and he was there.”

“Blaise…”

“I’m not asking you to be best friends with the bloke, Draco. But can’t you just get along for a few days? I don’t want to do this without you. I really don’t. Please tell me you’re not going to take off again.”

Draco sighed and slumped back in his chair. “I’m not going to take off,” he grumbled. “I said I’d be your Best Man and that’s what I’m going to do.” He reached out and squeezed Blaise’s shoulder. “I know I haven’t been around much lately but I’m still your friend, Blaise. That’s not going to change.”

“I know,” Blaise said with a faint smile. “You’re here and that’s what matters.”

“Exactly. And I’m going to be the _best_ Best Man at your wedding and I’m going to blow stupid Potter right out of the water.”

“Wait, what?”

“There can only be one Best Man,” Draco informed him loftily. “And it’s _me_. Not Potter. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to rock this wedding. Here, hold your kid.”

Blaise groaned as Draco handed Dani over and stalked off. “Brilliant,” he muttered. Now he had this to deal with. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea in the first place? Dani patted his cheek sympathetically, and he smiled and kissed her forehead. “Uncle Draco isn’t crazy,” he assured her. “He’s just always been a little touched in the head where Harry is concerned. A little obsessed. I know; it’s odd, right? It’s almost like he wants to...”

He trailed off and frowned.

Huh. That _was_ interesting, wasn’t it?

Blaise grinned and hoisted Dani up again. “Let’s get you back to Grandma, angel. Daddy’s got some scheming to do.”

 

****

 

It took him less than ten minutes to locate the rest of the group — mostly because they literally ran into him in the hallway and sent him crashing to the floor.

“There you are!” Ginny hissed urgently, helping him up. “Blaise, we’ve got to tell you something and it’s legen-wait for it-dary! Legendary!”

Blaise staggered to his feet. He pulled her into his arms without a word, kissing her fervently. “I have never been more attracted to you than I am at this moment.”

“Ugh.” Ron made a face and edged away from them. “I don’t approve of any part of this,” he announced firmly. “Not even a little bit.”

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek. “It’s worth a shot,” she said soothingly. “Just remember, we’re doing this for Harry.”

Ron subsided with a belligerent mumble. Blaise stopped short and stared at them, taking in their eager expressions. He recognised that look. It spoke of scheming and plotting, of conniving and other general sneakiness. Of course he recognised it. He had practically invented that look.

“I’m guessing you’ve seen it too?” he asked, trying to suppress the quiver of anticipation in his voice.

_Oh, please say yes. Please say yes..._

“It’s so obvious,” Ginny squealed. “They are _so_ into each other!”

“Seriously, _what_ am I missing here?” Ron demanded.

“They don’t see it but it’s there,” Hermione agreed. “I mean, _scarily_ there. Malfoy plays in a band, for Merlin’s sake! And I know for a fact that Harry likes bass players.”

“And Malfoy wants to settle down,” Ginny added. “I think we can all agree that Harry likes that in a bloke."

Ron gave up. He sighed and scrubbed his hair. “He does like the Cannons,” he added grudgingly. “We’re not going to find that again anytime soon.”

“That’s because the Cannons are bloody awful,” Blaise informed him.

Ron glowered defensively. “One,” he snapped. “I’ve got one slap left and I’m not afraid to use it, Zabini.”

Blaise immediately took cover behind Hermione, who rolled her eyes. “Back on topic,” she said firmly. “So are we really doing this? Are we really going to meddle in things that are none of our business and try to run Harry’s life for him?”

Ginny shrugged. “Well, clearly. What else do couples do?”

“Lovely,” Hermione replied cheerfully. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page.”

“Let’s do this!” Ginny grinned.

“Ugh, fine,” Ron grumbled.

Blaise chuckled gleefully and rubbed his hands. “Challenge accepted.”

 

****

 

And so began the most infuriating and frustrating three and a half days of Harry’s life. It was a nightmare. His initial plan to just avoid Malfoy and pretend he didn’t exist was failing miserably. The prat was everywhere.

Take the Bianca situation, for example.

Harry had been strolling along, intending to check up with Blaise’s personal tailor for his suit alterations. Because of _course_ , he wasn’t going to get married in the perfectly acceptable, traditional ceremonial robes he was supposed to wear when a tux was within reach. Harry knew better than to argue. Some things, you just went with.

So, there he was just minding his own business, when he came across Malfoy in the hallway— making a bloody nuisance of himself again.

“I’m afraid I must insist, Aunt Bianca,” Malfoy said smoothly. “You simply must take my room. A lady should never have to go without a view of the gardens.”

Harry all but screeched to a halt, his jaw dropping open. That wanker! Malfoy caught his eye and smirked before going back to fawning over Blaise’s mother. “I can’t imagine what imbecile thought it appropriate to give you that little hovel of a room, but there’s nothing to worry about anymore. The Best Man is here.”

Harry scowled and Bianca smiled her sultry smile. She patted Malfoy’s cheek fondly. “You were always my favourite, Draco,” she purred. “But please, don’t tell Blaise.”

Malfoy smiled cheerfully as she glided away, smirked at a still fuming Harry and sauntered off.

“Kiss arse,” Harry yelled after him.

“Incompetent,” Malfoy drawled, not even bothering to turn around.

Harry glared at his retreating back until he was gone. And for the record, if his gaze lingered on Malfoy’s arse for a second more than necessary, it was _only_ because he was too busy glaring holes in the prat’s back to look away in time.

That was all.

End of story.

 

****

 

That was just the beginning. After that, Malfoy made it a point to make his presence felt everywhere, and make Harry look like a nitwit in the process. 

He procured the perfect tux for Blaise in three hours flat. He swapped Harry’s perfectly mapped schedule for one of his own twisting making, redesigned the seating arrangements and basically took over the whole thing. And he did with that infuriating smug smirk and an easy effortlessness that made Harry want to reach out and throttle him.

The worst part? _Everyone_ liked having him around. Seriously, what the hell? Blaise had never been happier, but at least Harry could understand that. What he didn’t get was how easily Malfoy managed to wedge his way in with the rest of his friends. He conversed easily with Ginny, he kept up with Hermione— their last discussion on Ministry initiatives might very well have lasted throughout the wedding had Blaise not dragged Malfoy away— and perhaps most unfathomably, even Ron didn’t seem to mind his sudden presence in their lives.

Harry was starting to feel like a fifth wheel and he hated it. He hated it and he _hated_ stupid Malfoy for dropping out of nowhere and turning everything upside down again. He hated that smug grin and those grey eyes and that infuriating head of blond hair. He hated that Malfoy had only been here for two bloody days and somehow, Harry’s every waking moment revolved around him. It was eerily reminiscent of Hogwarts and he hated that too.

So Harry fought back. It was only fair. Malfoy was pulling every dirty trick in the book to replace him, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So he changed back the schedules, re-redesigned the seating arrangements and made sure none of Malfoy’s little plans ever made it past the drawing board.

And if this little stand-off led to three separate shouting matches with Malfoy in the hallway with anxious guests peeking out from their rooms, then that was just business as usual in Harry’s book.

“And that’s what you get for changing my schedule!” Harry yelled, pointing an accusing finger in a seething Malfoy’s face. “You can have your precious liquor stash back when you back the fuck off and let me do my job!”

“It’s not your job!” Malfoy snarled back. “You’re just in the bloody way, you tosser! I’m the Best Man and…”

**“I’m the Best Man!”**

“No, you’re bloody **not!** ”

“Yes, I bloody am!”

“Potter, I swear I’m going to…”

“Malfoy, you’re asking for…”

“Now that’s quite enough!”

The shrill reprimand rang out from behind them. Malfoy turned around and Harry followed his example. His eyes widened and his heart sank down to his shoes as he recognized the portly, scowling woman marching purposefully towards them. A portly scowling woman with beady eyes and a beak like nose, sporting a pink feathery hat. An ominously familiar pink feathered hat.

Oh no.

Oh _no._

“Is this what I get for travelling halfway across the country for Ginevra’s wedding?” Ron’s Great Aunt Muriel demanded. “Just listen to the two of you carrying on like that! In public, no less! Disgraceful! Why, in my day…”

Harry winced as the old hag proceeded to tear into him and Malfoy. He suppressed the urge to groan out loud. Oh gods, Aunt Muriel! How could he have forgotten? That old harridan who had chewed his ear off at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Gods, how was she still alive? Wasn’t she a thousand years old or something? And she _still_ had that abomination of a hat!

Said hat bobbed furiously as she carried on, apparently on a roll.

“...telling Molly just the other day that even Ginevra could have done better than that Zabini boy. Have you met his mother? There’s a word for people like _her_ where I come from...”

That’s it. Life was officially not worth living anymore. Harry was going to hex himself.

“And the champagne!” Muriel railed on, turning on a wide-eyed Malfoy now. At least he had the good sense to nod along. Then again, it only seemed to encourage her. “Don’t even get me started on the champagne. When I find who organised this wretched affair, I will have words with them, I promise you that! I...”

“He did,” Malfoy supplied at once, jabbing a finger in Harry’s direction. “Best Man. This bloke, right here.”

“Oi!” Harry snapped indignantly. “We’re _both_ the Best Men!”

If he was going down, he was bloody well taking Malfoy with him.

Muriel’s hawk like gaze promptly zeroed in on him. “Harry Potter,” she stated tersely. Her flinty gaze raked over him, clearly sizing him up. Harry straightened himself self-consciously. “I suppose Ronald wasn’t boasting after all.”

“Well, I…”

“I thought you’d be taller in person.”

Malfoy snickered happily until Muriel turned on him again. Harry smirked as Malfoy’s smug grin faded at once. “And you,” Muriel went on, looking him over disparagingly. “One of those Malfoys, is it? With hair like that, it’s a wonder I didn’t see you all the way from Diagon Alley. And Merlin boy, when was the last time you cut it? Before the war?”

Malfoy’s jaw dropped and he sputtered in sheer indignation, much to Harry’s vicious amusement. Maybe Muriel wasn’t so bad, after all. However, she was still glaring so he struggled to keep a straight face. Muriel’s eyes darted from him to Malfoy and back again.

“Now about you two,” she huffed, pursing her lips. “I may be over a hundred and I admit I don’t really understand how _this_ works.” She paused and gestured vaguely at them. “But I’ll have you know that my Bilius and I were married for over seventy years and that’s a long time.”

Harry frowned in confusion. Where was this going exactly?

“So take it from an old hand at this, boys. _Never_ take an argument out of the bedroom.”

_Wait, what?_

 “What?” Malfoy shrill screech echoed Harry’s sentiments rather succinctly. As did his shell shocked expression.

Muriel wasn’t interested. She carried on with her little rant, all but talking over them. “Oh, I know what it’s like— all youth and passion, never seeing eye to eye on anything. Very exciting, all of it. But in the end, it doesn’t make for a very happy marriage if you’re bickering all the time, now does it?”

Harry’s jaw dropped in tandem with Malfoy’s. She thought they were…

“And you’re supposed to be setting an example, Mr Potter,” Muriel added, sniffing disparagingly at him. “A man of your stature should _not_ be yelling at his spouse in public.”

Harry would have given every Galleon he had to just disappear in a hole in the ground. A hot blush crept up his neck at the very thought of...just how was he supposed to get out of this situation? Fortunately, Malfoy’s patience had worn thin and he leapt into the fray.

“Now, hold on,” he snapped indignantly. “ _We_ are not…”

“And here’s a little advice for you, Mr Malfoy,” Muriel cut in, practically steamrollering right over his protests. “Nothing works better on a man than a little quality time in the bedroom, if you get my drift. A lot better than airing your dirty laundry in public, I assure you.”

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or break down sobbing. Malfoy seemed to have been rendered speechless. His eyes were wide and he was gaping soundlessly, apparently at a loss for words. A scarlet blush was creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Despite being in the direct line of fire, Harry revelled in the gobsmacked expression on Malfoy’s face.

Oh, he was definitely changing his mind about Muriel. She was _brilliant_ and she had just given him the most glorious opportunity for revenge. Harry would be an idiot for not taking advantage of it.

“You know, she has a point,” he spoke up. He had to suppress a bout of laughter as Malfoy’s eyes widened exponentially. Instead, Harry adopted an earnest expression and placed an arm around Malfoy’s slim shoulders. “We’ve just been so busy with this wedding—I guess I just haven’t had the time for _us_. I’m so sorry, darling _._ ”

“Excuse me?!” Malfoy shrilled. “Get your paws…”

His rant ended in an alarmed squeak as Harry tightened his grip and herded him over. Malfoy tumbled into his chest and Harry held on, determined not to let this go until he had milked it for all it was worth. “He’s been feeling a little neglected,” he informed Muriel solemnly. “It’s my fault, really. Sometimes, well...I’m just not there, you know? It’s hard on both of us.”

“What?!” Malfoy all but snarled, squirming violently in his grip. “Potter, get your hands off me this…”

“See?” Harry sighed and shook his head. “He won’t even let me make it up to him. It’s just so _difficult_ sometimes. And between you and me...” He lowered his voice and leaned in for Muriel’s benefit. “It’s been _forever_.”

Malfoy squawked in outrage and Muriel tutted disapprovingly. “Well, that’s always the problem, isn’t it? The poor lad. You have a lot of making up to do, Mr Potter.”

“I swear to Merlin, Potter. If you so much as touch me, I’ll…”

“Too right,” Harry agreed cheerfully. “No time like the present, yeah?”

It was the stupidest, most dangerous thing he could have done in the circumstances. Of course, that was precisely why he did it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Harry placed a firm hand on Malfoy’s jaw and pulled him forward, pressing a firm, hard kiss to his lips. Malfoy’s gasp of outrage turned into a muffled shriek. His hand dug painfully into Harry’s shoulder, trying to push him off. But Harry held on stubbornly, pressing into Malfoy’s mouth with single minded determination.

He had rather soft lips, actually. Plush and pink and full— like a _girl_ , Harry thought viciously. Malfoy was frozen in his grip and his eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, brushing Harry’s cheek. Something about it was so exhilarating. Who had ever been able to render Malfoy speechless?

Harry Sodding _Potter_ , that’s who!

So Harry just had at it, pushing forcefully against Malfoy’s parted lips and snogging him thoroughly before finally releasing him. Malfoy scrambled back as soon as he let go, looking utterly shell-shocked. Bewildered, grey eyes blinked at Harry as Malfoy tried and failed to come to terms with what had just happened. Harry grinned smugly and turned back to Muriel. “I think I’ve got it from here,” he told her. “Thank you for setting us straight, Ma’am.”

Muriel nodded approvingly and patted his shoulder. “You take care of that young man now,” she said. Harry waved cheerfully until she departed. As soon as the room to her door shut, he burst out laughing — leaning against the wall for support.

Oh, he couldn’t help it. It was just that awesome.

“You should...have...seen the...the look on your face!” Harry managed through fits of laughter.

Malfoy went from dumbfounded to seething with rage in all of two seconds. “You **bastard!** ”

Harry groaned as Malfoy pulled his fist back and punched him right in the ribs. He doubled over in pain, and he _still_ couldn’t stop laughing. It took him all of ten minutes to finally straighten himself out. Malfoy stood there, silently seething and glaring daggers at him. It was the most fun Harry had had in a long time.

“Aw, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” he teased. Bloody hell, Malfoy looked _furious._ Harry’s grin widened. “Would another kiss make it all better?”

Malfoy— who looked about one step from either strangling Harry or going for his wand— stopped short and flushed scarlet at the suggestion. His cheeks coloured and his eyes widened. It made something inside Harry thrum pleasantly. Now that he was actually looking, he had to admit Malfoy actually looked _good_ like this. All flushed and breathless— Harry absently wondered what _else_ made Malfoy blush.

Then Malfoy regained his faculties and shoved him away. “Fuck you!” he snarled, backing away defensively. “What the bloody hell, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he offered nonchalantly. To tell the truth, his pulse was still racing at the memory of Malfoy’s slim body pressed against his own. Instinctively, Harry’s gaze drifted over him. Not half bad actually. Too bad about the personality, but he had to admit it was wrapped up in one pretty package...

“Like what you see?” Malfoy sneered. He made a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bet you’ve been waiting years to do that.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Harry retorted. He most certainly had _not._ Although there was something to be said for a sure fire way of shutting Malfoy up. The direction of his thoughts made him bristle defensively and he couldn’t resist a parting shot. “And that’s all the action you’re getting from me, so don’t get used to it.”

Malfoy visibly _seethed_ at that and Harry had to quell another laugh. Malfoy pointed a damning finger in his face, eyes glittering with fury. “Just stay out of my way,” he growled. “And don’t _ever_ do that again or I’ll hex your bollocks off!”

“Fine by me,” Harry shot back. As if _he_ wanted to put his mouth anywhere near Malfoy’s ever again…talk about revolting. Yeah, that was the word. _Revolting._

Malfoy flounced off with a parting sneer. Harry watched him leave and it wasn’t until Malfoy was well out of sight that he realised he had been staring rather keenly at the blond’s arse. Again. For the third time in so many days.

Harry pursed his lips in displeasure and hurried to leave as well. Maybe avoiding Malfoy for the rest of the wedding wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

 

****

 

It was a sound plan and he had every intention of following through with it. For a while, it actually worked. At first, Harry managed to get by without running into Malfoy at every other corner. But then something strange started happening.

If Harry didn’t know better he would swear that he and Malfoy were being _herded_ together.

It started with Ginny’s crisis. Harry wasn’t sure what she was going on about but apparently something had gone horribly wrong with the cake three days before the wedding. Harry refused to read much into it, opting to chalk it up to last minute bridal panics. Then he got to the kitchen for the requested taste test and found Malfoy there.

Malfoy who was already well on his way to sampling said cake, and apparently enjoying it.

“I don’t know _what_ she’s going on about,” Malfoy informed an army of hassled house-elves as he dug in. “This is fine. Hell, it’s bloody fantastic. Can I get seconds, please?”

Harry could do nothing but stare as the bizarre scene unfolded before him. The first thing he registered was that Malfoy had been passing polite to a house-elf. The second thing was that Malfoy had perched himself on a counter, kicking his legs out without a care in the world as he had at the cake. Harry just watched because honestly, this was just odd. Malfoy looked so boyish and carefree, almost happy. He hadn’t even noticed Harry yet and there was quite obviously nothing in his world that mattered more than cake, at the moment. Harry’s lips twitched. If he didn’t know any better, he would say it was cute.

Then Malfoy lifted the chocolate smeared spoon to his mouth. Those soft, pink lips — that Harry had absolutely not been thinking about for the last eight hours — wrapped around the spoon and Malfoy _moaned_. His eyelashes fluttered in pure pleasure, and any thoughts of Malfoy being boyish and cute promptly fled Harry’s mind.

Malfoy was bloody well enjoying himself— that was for sure. He emitted a sound that could have passed for a satisfied purr and then his tongue peeked out to get at the rest of the chocolate and Harry felt _his_ mouth go dry. Bloody hell, he was _really_ going at it.

As if on cue, Harry’s thoughts went back to that kiss the other day, the feel of those soft lips under his own. Malfoy had barely moved then, which was reasonable considering he’d been frozen in shock. What was Malfoy’s kissing like when he wasn’t being rudely assaulted, Harry wondered. Was he enthusiastic? Responsive? Talented? Recent evidence suggested all of that and more. Harry swallowed as Malfoy’s tongue flicked at the spoon again. The constriction in his throat just about matched the one in his pants and he was moving now, approaching Malfoy and this really wasn’t a good idea but…

Malfoy saw him.

Malfoy’s eyes widened.

Malfoy ceased fellating the spoon. His brow arched in a familiar, defensive glare and he scrambled back on the counter, as far away from Harry as possible.

“What?” he snapped.

Oh, back to being a prat then. Good. Harry preferred familiar ground where Malfoy was concerned.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, with just a hint of teasing. Why not? It wasn’t like he had much to do and riling Malfoy up was an old hobby. Plus, there was always the small chance that he would blush again and that was always fun…

This time though, Malfoy did not blush. He just glared at Harry as if mentally willing him to ashes. “I was until you showed up,” he replied coldly. “What do you want now?”

Harry’s eyes drifted to Malfoy’s lips. There was still a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. Harry licked his lips instinctively. _Why_ did he have to look so damn good? Honestly, Harry shouldn’t be expected to make rational decisions when Malfoy insisted on throwing him off course every single...

“Potter! For Merlin’s sake, I asked you what you wanted…”

And that was when Harry threw rationality out the window and cut off Malfoy’s latest rant— by swiping a thumb over his lips and wiping away the chocolate. Malfoy’s eyes widened and he shut up at once, mercifully silent and lips slightly parted. Harry grinned smugly and licked the chocolate off his finger, refusing to even think about the consequences of his bizarre actions. Thinking before acting was for losers anyway. Besides, everyone liked chocolate.

“You know, I think I’m good,” he announced cheerfully. “I just got everything I need. Later, Malfoy.”

He turned and left, suppressing a grin as a saucepan flew through the air and missed his head by near inches.

Oh yes, this was turning out to be _fun_.

 

****

 

However— as much as he might have enjoyed that little incident— Harry couldn’t help but notice just how often he and Malfoy seemed to end up in the same place together. He would have suspected Malfoy of planning it just to mess with him but _he_ didn’t seem any happier about the enforced quality time either. All Harry got out of him were suspicious scowls and wary glances. Nevertheless, he stubbornly refused to leave— still firmly convinced he was the Best Man— and Harry sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere so they were stuck together.

And for the most ridiculous reasons, at that. Harry really didn’t think emergency suit fittings were absolutely necessary this late in the day, but Blaise was convinced that they had _all_ put on a few kilos after the rehearsal dinner. Long story short, he found himself being poked and prodded at by Blaise’s overly handsy personal tailor at six in the morning while a disgruntled, sleep rumpled Malfoy sulked in a corner, threatening to wear jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt to the ceremony if he didn’t get coffee in the next ten minutes. Just for that, Blaise had him try on three suits. Harry relegated himself to sitting stiffly in a corner—  while Malfoy grumbled and complained and tried on shirts and jackets— trying not to let his eyes stray anywhere near Malfoy’s bare, toned chest in the process.

He was out of sorts and agitated by the time they left the benighted tailor and then Hermione had accosted him, demanding that he take Dani to the park. Somehow, Malfoy had been roped into babysitting duty as well. It was a tense uncomfortable morning, filled with awkward silences but they managed it. By unspoken agreement, Malfoy carried Dani over to the swings and Harry excused himself to fetch the ice cream. By the time he returned, Dani was squealing happily and kicking her chubby little legs out as Malfoy pushed her gently on the swing, one hand firmly around her to keep her balance. His smile was soft and unguarded and he spoke to her, earning a delighted smile from the little girl every now and then.

Harry watched from a little distance and he told himself that it was just mild curiosity at how comfortable Malfoy seemed to be with children. It wasn’t fondness or anything and it certainly didn’t make something warm and comfortable unfold in his chest. _That_ was for sure. Okay, so maybe it was a little fondness— but for Dani. _Not_ Malfoy.

Then Dani spotted him and the ice cream and all further explorations on the matter of Malfoy’s child rearing skills had to be shelved aside as an excited toddler situated herself in Harry’s grasp. Harry laughed and bounced her and fussed over her a little, coincidentally avoiding looking at Malfoy or acknowledging his presence at all. As they made their way back in silence, Harry could have sworn Malfoy was staring at him. But every time he turned to check, the blond was looking straight ahead or studying his nails or basically, looking at everything except him or Dani.

By the time they returned and were immediately recruited for yet another emergency mission— together, big surprise— Harry was starting to suspect something was a bit off.

Malfoy didn’t seem to be buying it either.

“Dance practice,” he intoned flatly, raising an eyebrow at the happy couple. Ginny squirmed uncomfortably under his suspicious regard but Blaise just flashed an easy, unrepentant smile— apparently used to this form of silent interrogation.

“We just thought it would be nice to have both my Best Men— shut up, I don’t want to hear it— on the dance floor,” he announced, sounding exceptionally pleased with this idea. “So, who’s up for a little practice?”

“No,” Malfoy stated at about the same time that Harry announced “Over my dead body.”

“Oh, good,” Ginny chirped. “They’re finally agreeing on something.”

Harry crossed his arms defensively. “We _agree_ that this is not happening. I already told you I’m not going to dance at the ceremony...”

“Yes, yes. Because you’ve got two left feet. It’s disgraceful, really,” Blaise cut in. “But see, that’s where Draco comes in. If anyone can get you in shape for the waltz, it’s him.”

“Absolutely not,” Malfoy repeated belligerently.

“See how excited he is?” Blaise insisted. “Now come on, chop-chop. Three days before the Big Day, yeah?”

Harry was starting to feel a headache coming on. He didn’t know what they were trying to do, but he doubted it would end well for him. Especially considering the way Malfoy was glaring. Harry would just as soon expect a kick in the ribs as the basics of a simple box step. Besides, he could dance just fine if the occasion called for it. He certainly didn’t need to learn Malfoy’s poncey moves to...

“I really don’t think…” he began.

“There is not enough money in the world...” Malfoy started off.

Unfortunately for them, Ginny had just about had it with this nonsense. “Enough,” she announced, firmly situating herself between them. “You know what? I don’t even care anymore. This is _my_ wedding, _I’m_ the Bride and what I say goes. You!” she snapped, pointing a finger in Malfoy’s face. “Get over yourself. And you!” she railed on, whirling around to Harry now. “Get over your issues with _him_. At this point, I don’t even know what they are and I don’t care! So, snap to it. Why? Because I’m the Bride and I bloody well _say so_!”

And with that, she grabbed a grinning Blaise’s arm, whirled around and dragged him off. “Cue the music!”

And that was that. The door slammed shut. Harry could have sworn he heard the click of a Locking Charm too. Oh, bloody brilliant. She _actually_ expected them to do this. Harry scowled as a slow melody obligingly commenced, filling the ballroom. “For Merlin’s sake,” he grumbled. He scuffed his shoe against the polished floor in a show of petulance.

 _Why_ was this happening to him?

Malfoy made a small scoffing sound in his throat and stubbornly shoved his hands in his pockets.  Evidently, he refused to make the first move.

Harry sighed in defeat and approached him. “Come on,” he coaxed, extending an arm and ignoring Malfoy’s half step retreat at his action. “I don’t like it anymore than you do but she is ‘The Bride’.”

“There should be a limit on how many times she gets to use that in one day,” Malfoy retorted, sliding forward. His slim fingers rested on Harry’s shoulder, pressing down ever so slightly. Harry tried to ignore the sudden hitch of his breath and wrapped one arm around Malfoy’s slender waist. He wasn’t sure when they’d agreed that _he_ would be the one to lead but Malfoy seemed unperturbed by the dynamic. 

“I’ve already lost two muffins and a cup of coffee to that blighted excuse since this morning,” Malfoy went on. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. He still wasn’t sure what to make of this new Malfoy who inexplicably got along with his friends and wasn’t a prat on general principle. So he said and did nothing until Malfoy huffed in impatience and tightened his grip on Harry’s shoulder. “Get to it, then,” he snapped. “The sooner we get this over with…”

Just to be contrary, Harry started moving abruptly, cutting his little rant off before it could start. Malfoy staggered a bit but quickly got into the spirit of things. Soon, he was moving without hesitation, apparently willing to follow Harry’s lead. Eventually, they relaxed a bit, falling into the repetitive, precise movements of the dance.

“Okay, good,” Malfoy murmured. He seemed more focused now that he had something to concentrate on. He was counting the steps, instructing Harry on how to move each time he missed one. “Now, take a step back.”

“Like this?”

“No, that’s too far. You don’t want to drag your partner around. It’s... okay, yeah. That’s much better...”

For once, their conversation held no animosity. It was just two people dancing. It was the most surreal experience of Harry’s life.

And, he had to admit, it was...interesting. Being the one guiding Malfoy’s direction, gently reeling him in when he strayed too far, keeping a firm hold on that slim waist as he spun them across the floor. There was something oddly intimate about it. It felt...personal and different and a part of him was really surprised how well they seemed to fit together. Malfoy’s slim body seemed to have been made to move with his.

Harry bit back a groan as thoughts of Malfoy’s body moving _under_ his made an unexpected comeback. Gods, what was _happening_ to him?

“Just so you know, I’m on to you. I know what you’re doing.”

Malfoy’s voice jerked him out of his musings. “Oh?” Harry replied innocently. He tightened his grip a little, and Malfoy’s eyes narrowed at the handling. Harry’s lips twitched with amusement. He could sense an argument rearing up. That was a good thing. If he was arguing with Malfoy, at least he wouldn’t be thinking about how good the prat felt pressed up against him. “And what am I doing, exactly?”

Malfoy lifted his chin defiantly. “You’re trying to make me uncomfortable so that I leave,” he announced. His tone spoke of ironclad conviction.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He had forgotten how suspicious Malfoy could be. Talk about _the_ Slytherin poster child. To tell the truth, he seriously doubted _that_ was what he was doing, but like hell he was telling Malfoy that. “And is it working?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his amusement now. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Yes. I mean no!” Malfoy snapped. He sounded so frustrated. Harry bit his lip to keep from grinning. Malfoy huffed and went on. “I _mean_ I’m not going anywhere no matter what you pull so you can just stop...being weird.”

Harry had half a mind to tell him the truth. Honestly, he really didn’t want Malfoy to leave any more. He was fun and interesting and shockingly easy to rile up. He was entertaining. It would be a dull wedding without him. No, he definitely didn’t want Malfoy to go away but he doubted he could explain why. Malfoy wouldn’t believe him anyway. Besides, the thought that he’d had that much of an effect on his old school rival was oddly amusing, to say the least.

So he gave Malfoy a charming grin instead. “I really don’t think I will. Besides, you look so pretty when you blush.”

And that was absolutely not what he’d planned to say— under _any_ circumstances.

Malfoy’s scowl deepened to a full out glare but on the plus side, he blushed again. “It’s not going to work,” he bit out. “And I’ll have you know that two can play at this game, Potter.”

“Hit me with your best shot,” Harry replied cheerfully. “Now give us a twirl, darling.”

He laughed when Malfoy pushed him away. _Ponce_ , Harry mused fondly as he watched him storm off.He definitely didn’t understand what was going on between him and Malfoy. But it was fun. Oh, it was _so_ much fun.

And the funny thing was that Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much with anyone.

 

****

 

It wasn’t until the next evening— at Blaise’s ill timed Stag Party— that Harry got a little more perspective on his Malfoy-related issues.

It started with said Malfoy showing up to the club in tight leather trousers.

Now, in Harry’s defence a) The Crab Shack served very strong drinks and b) there wasn’t much else to do but drink at the bloody Crab Shack, so he was fairly out of it by the time Malfoy made an appearance. Add to the fact that said Malfoy was dressed in a shirt that fit like a glove and trousers that seemed to have been painted on and well, let’s just say Harry really wasn’t in a position to make very good decisions.

Blaise was the first to notice him. “You made it,” he said fondly, reaching out and tousling Malfoy’s hair. “I was starting to think you were a no-show.”

Malfoy smirked and cast a disparaging eye across the dank, dreary club. “And miss this?” he replied flatly. “Perish the thought.” His gaze finally landed on Harry — who admittedly could have benefited from picking his jaw off the floor but seriously, bleeding _leather_ trousers. Malfoy’s eyes twinkled with the slightest hint of mischief. “Potter,” he purred, approaching Harry now and looking for all the world like a prowling jungle cat.

_Two can play at this game._

Oh, that dirty little cheater. With great effort, Harry picked up his jaw from the floor and clenched it, doing his best to look absolutely unaffected.

“Malfoy,” he greeted coolly.

In hindsight, it may have sounded less like a greeting and more like a strangled hiss— because seriously, freaking _leather_ trousers. Harry cursed inwardly. The little git was playing dirty again _and_ he had the upper hand. After Harry had tried so hard to throw him off balance too! It was just unsportsmanlike, that’s what it was.

Malfoy seemed satisfied by Harry’s inner turmoil. He dismissed him and turned back to Blaise. “Why isn’t Weasley here?” he asked. “Why am I being punished with this awful excursion while he gets to lounge in his room?”

Blaise smirked and shoved a drink at Malfoy. “First of all, you’ve been in places worse than this. I haven’t forgotten the Tijuana Incident. Secondly, Ron is back at the inn giving his very pregnant and very irritable wife a foot massage, so he’s being punished enough. And thirdly, this is my stag party. So shut up and buy me a lap dance.”

Malfoy cast a contemptuous glance at the women on stage. A lithe scantily clad brunette executed an almost perfect spin, wrapping her long legs around the pole. She caught Malfoy’s eye and treated him to a playful wink. Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Amateurs,” he scoffed.

Harry sensed a cue and raised a challenging eyebrow. “Think you could do better?”

Malfoy smirked. “I _know_ I could do better, Potter.”

Oh, was that right? Harry grinned ominously and tossed a Galleon at him, which Malfoy caught with a swift twist of his wrist. “Let’s see what you’ve got then.” Harry challenged. Malfoy lifted his chin, silently deliberating. Was he really going to do it? Frankly, Harry was half expecting him to call bluff and shuck the Galleon back.

Malfoy however, just sauntered off.

“Now you’ve done it,” Blaise drawled. “I was hoping we’d all be sloshed before it came to this.”

Harry frowned as he stared at the blond’s retreating back. “He’s not really going to go through with it, is he?” The thought of Malfoy up on that stage, twisting and grinding to some cheap beat was laughable. Hilarious, as a matter of fact — and not at all arousing.

But evidently, it was going to happen. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy approaching the stage and gesturing to the brunette. They exchanged a few words. She giggled and nodded eagerly, clearly on board with his suggestion. Okay then...

Harry cleared his throat and took a healthy swig of his drink. “He wouldn’t,” he repeated firmly. “Malfoy’s got too much of a stick up his arse to even think about...”

“Oh, Harry.” Blaise sighed and patted his shoulder. “You’re just a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Harry had no time to respond to that because Malfoy chose that very second to lift one slim leg up and plant it on the stage. He was up there in one smooth pounce and then every eye in the dank little club was on him. Harry froze but Malfoy didn’t seem the least bit fazed. That grey gaze caught his eye again. Malfoy’s lips curled up in a smirk.

Everything that happened after that was something of a blur.

There was music, Harry thought. There must have been. The sound was muted but he could feel the steady beat thrum against the table, underneath his palms. And there were lights. They went off in his face every now and then— bright and disorienting — marking the slim silhouette on the stage. And there were people too. Men, actually. Lots and lots of men. They gathered around the stage in a crowd, watching in avid interest as Malfoy...

Malfoy started moving. Harry promptly lost all interest in the rest of the world as that slender body twisted and writhed on stage. Malfoy didn’t just dance. Oh no. This was different.

Malfoy _danced_. He twisted and slipped in and out of the shadows, teasing the strips of light that tried so hard to catch him. He played them with his slender body and his long legs, affording nothing but teasing glimpses to his steadily growing audience. An audience composed almost entirely of interested males (and more than a few women, by the way) who weren’t opposed to reaching out and trying to touch the pretty vision who’d just taken over their dull evening. Malfoy stayed out of reach— all smirks and sly grins— teasing and taunting, but never coming close enough to touch. One of them reached out to grab him but he slipped away easily.

Harry was absurdly thankful for that. Not to mention bemused because really, _how_ was Malfoy moving like that without dislocating something?

“And this is where I bow out,” Blaise drawled, finishing his drink and setting it back on the counter. “Try to keep him out of trouble, will you Harry?” He raised an eyebrow as Malfoy executed a perfect spin on the pole and smirked. “Although I daresay, you have your hands full.”

Harry didn’t even notice him leaving. Every fibre of his being was focused on Malfoy and his lithe, graceful, sinuous movements. Those long legs, that flat stomach, those sharp features and mischievous eyes— bloody _hell_ , he was gorgeous.

And that’s when Harry knew that he was in big, big trouble.

Shockingly, Malfoy was becoming rather popular too. Some bloke decided to just go for the gold. He clambered on stage and reached for him. A questing hand made its way towards Malfoy’s waist.

Harry’s jaw clenched. His feet were moving before he could even register it. In seconds, he was pushing his way through the hollering crowd and approaching the stage, wand out and ready. A discreet spell took care of Malfoy’s admirer, who suddenly found himself tripping over his own feet and toppling off the stage with a surprised yelp. Malfoy laughed, apparently delighting in the mayhem he was causing. He wrapped himself around the pole again, stretching his body for the adoring public. Cheers went up all around him, and Harry scowled.

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” he snapped.

Malfoy turned and favoured him with a wicked smile. “Oh?” he asked innocently.

Harry crossed his arms and affected his sternest I’m-an-Auror-and-you-better-listen-to-me expression. “Off the stage,” he ordered. “Now.”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed with challenge. “Come and get me.”

Harry wasn’t about to disappoint him. He reached out and grabbed Malfoy by the arm, trying to ignore the protests and groans from the audience.

“Oh, come on!” some bloke groaned. “Seriously, who’s the killjoy?”

“Let ‘im take his shirt off!” someone else shouted.

Harry grit his teeth as applause and cat calls rang out at that helpful suggestion. Malfoy cocked his head in consideration and Harry tightened his grip. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled. Later, he would sit down and explore in detail exactly _why_ the idea of Malfoy disrobing for complete strangers made him want to set something on fire. At the moment however, he had to concentrate on getting the git out of here. Preferably with a bulky, shapeless jacket draped over his stupid, skinny self.

Malfoy wasn’t particularly interested in cooperating. “I like it here,” he informed Harry. “I think I’ll stay.”

Harry’s irritation spiked to dangerous levels. “Either you get down, or I’ll come up there and make you,” he threatened. “I mean it, Malfoy.” He did. He really did. At this point, he would bodily drag Malfoy out of here kicking and screaming. Granted, he didn’t know why, but he sure as hell wasn’t letting Malfoy strip for this sleazy crowd while he figured it out.

Fortunately, Malfoy seemed to think he was serious as well. “You’re no fun,” he groused. But he acquiesced and leapt off the stage in one graceful move. “There,” he declared, dusting his hands off. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Harry muttered, ushering him through the reluctant crowd. Malfoy just smirked and allowed himself to be manhandled. Harry kept his grip tight and unyielding until they were outside and far enough from any lingering admirers. Then he pulled out his wand and Disapparated back to the Inn, with a smirking Malfoy firmly in tow.

 

****

 

“My my,” Malfoy tutted as they reappeared in the gardens. His eyes swept over Harry and his lips pulled in a lazy smirk. “Not the sharing type, are we?”

It might have been the booze. Or the fact that they were all alone in the gardens. Or maybe it was the sight of Malfoy’s dark, lidded eyes or the feel of his slim, taut body under Harry’s hands— Harry really wasn’t sure. All he knew was that one moment, he was glaring at the prat and then he had him pinned against a wall, hands tight on Malfoy’s waist. Then he was leaning in, as if guided by instinct and Malfoy wasn’t exactly pulling away.

It was Malfoy who closed the distance between them. It wasn’t even a kiss, just a brush of the lips. Experimental. Searching. Harry would never understand just what part of that barely there gesture made him pull Malfoy in and smash their mouths together. Just what was it that made him push Malfoy even further into that wall, until his back was pressed against those bricks and taste him so thoroughly, so eagerly. All he knew was that he didn’t really give a damn, because Malfoy’s retaliation was just as intense, just as desperate.

Bloody _hell_ , this was happening.

Malfoy was kissing him _back._

Harry moaned and plied into the wet, welcoming heat of Malfoy’s mouth— eager and insistent and bloody invasive, if he was being honest with himself. But Malfoy didn’t seem to mind. When he finally resurfaced for air, his breath was coming in harsh pants and his chest was heaving. His eyes were flashing and each flicker of that dark, lidded gaze was going straight to Harry’s groin and…

“Bet you’ve been waiting years to do that,” Malfoy hissed, grabbing hold of Harry’s shirt and guiding him over again.

“You started it,” Harry retorted.

“ _You_ started it,” Malfoy belted back. “With your stalking and your dancing and the...”

“Gryffindor, remember? I’m a go-with-my-gut kind of bloke.”

“Yeah?” Malfoy leaned in and Harry’s breath hitched. They were so close now, that he could see the faint dusting of freckles on Malfoy’s cheekbones, the silver of his eyes. “Show me,” Malfoy whispered.

Challenge fucking accepted.

Harry growled and gripped the back of his neck, propelling him forward in silent, urgent demand. Malfoy met him halfway and his blood surged. Smooth, soft lips slipped over his again and Harry growled his approval. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. This was heat and fire and dominance and want. It was so bloody intense— nothing like the innocence of Ginny’s kisses or Skyler’s smooth confidence.

How could it be? How could they even compare? This was _Malfoy_.

It was a whole other ball game.

Fucking hell, it was _Malfoy!_

Things were moving faster now, faltering with the urgency. Malfoy’s hands were shifting, his fingers tangling in Harry’s hair as he deepened the kiss. Harry shifted his hold and slid his hands down Malfoy’s back.

“Take this inside?” Malfoy panted, breaking away for a second.

 “My room,” Harry muttered. He was doing this. They were going to have sex. He was going to shag Malfoy. He was actually going to...

“I wish I could say this is a surprise.”

Harry stopped. The sneering voice rang out abruptly in the silence, catching him off guard. He stiffened, vaguely aware that Malfoy had all but frozen in his grip. The next thing he knew, Malfoy was jerking out of his arms and pushing him away.

 

****

“No!”

Blaise cursed in three different languages as he slammed his fist against the window pane. “Shite!” he snarled, taking in the scene in front of him.

“What?” Ginny demanded, trying to jostle him out of the way to get a look.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione added, waddling over. “Are they fighting again?”

“Really?” Ron whined from his spot on the bed. “Now we’re spying on them? Do you even realise how many degrees of wrong this is?”

“Shh!” Ginny and Hermione hissed in unison.

Blaise paid them no mind as he stared out at the now three figures out in the gardens. His eyes narrowed and his fist clenched. He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten?

“This is bad,” he muttered. And things had been going so well too. Harry and Draco were finally making a little headway and now...this was all Blaise’s fault. He shouldn’t have forgotten. He should have at least warned Draco. There was no way he’d stick around now. Not if _he_ was here...

“Oh no,” Hermione murmured. She’d seen it too.

Blaise’s jaw clenched. “I’m going down there,” he said suddenly. “Maybe I can...”

“No,” Hermione said. “Don’t. You’ll only make it worse for Malfoy.”

“But...”

“Think, Blaise. Would you want an audience right now if you were in his place?”

No, he wouldn’t. He really wouldn’t. Blaise sneered but stayed put. There was nothing he could do to help. Hermione squeezed his shoulder soothingly.

“Let him handle this,” she insisted. “It’s about time.”

 

****

 

Harry tried his very best not to cringe. He failed. To be fair, this was one of his not so stellar moments. There _had_ to be a better way of reacquainting himself with Lucius Malfoy than sticking tongue down his only son’s throat.

Shockingly, Lucius didn’t seem to care much for it. He hadn’t changed much. He still had that regal arrogant air around him— with the stiff posture and the blank, condescending expression. But his eyes flashed dangerously and his mouth was a thin, tight line. Harry palmed his wand discreetly. Lucius Malfoy had attacked him with _far_ less provocation in the past.

For now however, his attention seemed fixed on his son.

“Draco.”

There was more accusation than greeting in that little intonation; nothing welcoming about it, in the least. And that wasn’t all. Now that he was caught right in the middle of this...whatever it was, Harry could practically feel the tension radiate off the two men.

 _Why_ did these things always happen to him?

“Lord Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s — well, Draco’s— cold greeting jerked him back to attention. Harry just about managed to mask his surprise.

Did he just say ‘Lord Malfoy’?

He stole a quick glance at the blond and his suspicions were confirmed. Draco’s posture was as stiff and rigid as his father’s. His eyes were trained on Lucius as if expecting him to attack and his fists were clenching and unclenching in barely suppressed agitation. Harry was certain he had never seen Draco quite like this. He looked...threatened. Harry’s sense of foreboding increased. Just what was he missing here?

Lucius recovered first. His grey eyes drifted over his son, pausing slightly as he took in Draco’s attire. Draco lifted his chin defiantly, even as Lucius smirked. “It’s been a while,” the older man said after a beat.

“Six years, give or take,” Draco replied tonelessly. The silence crackled around them. “Forgive me; I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you here.”

Wait, six years? Wasn’t that about the time Draco had left the country?

“The Zabinis still count for something in our circle despite their...questionable associations,” Lucius drawled. His eyes flicked to Harry who clenched his teeth. When Lucius turned back to Draco, his gaze was sharpened steel. “I suppose it would be too much to hope that you secured an invitation. Or perhaps you’re here with the kitchen staff?”

Draco visibly flinched at that. Something dark and coldly protective settled in Harry’s chest. He didn’t like Lucius’ tone and he certainly didn’t like the way it made Draco wince, as if in physical pain. “Actually, he’s the Best Man,” he found himself responding.

Both of them whipped around to him. Draco looked a little shocked— he had either forgotten that Harry was present or he was just stunned to have someone speak on his behalf, Harry wasn’t sure which. But Lucius raised a pale brow in mild interest. Harry kept his gaze trained firmly on the elder Malfoy. He wasn’t sure _why_ he was involving himself but he could worry about that later.

If Lucius was focused on _Harry_ , then he would leave his son alone. He hadn’t missed the hurt in Draco’s eyes or the tense way he held himself in his father’s presence. He looked very...young under the unrelenting, judging gaze of his sire. Besides, Harry could take on Lucius Bloody Malfoy. Merlin knows he’d had the practice.

“And it speaks,” Lucius drawled. “Always where you have no business being, aren’t you Potter?”

“One of my many talents,” Harry shot back.

“Potter, leave,” Draco broke in suddenly. His tone was soft but urgent. He refused to look at Harry, his eyes trained firmly on his father. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Lucius drawled. “From what I’ve seen, I’d say it most certainly concerns him.” His gaze drifted back to Draco and the smirk gave way to a disparaging sneer. “Tell me, son. Is this what you hope to accomplish by giving up the family name? I would have hoped for better than Potter, at the very least.”

Now he was just being insulting. And the implications in that little speech had Harry bristling defensively— even if they were mostly true. He scowled at the man and opened his mouth to retort even as a guilty flush crept up his neck again.

Draco beat him to it.

“So I’m your son now, am I?” he asked quietly. A bitter, painful smile flashed across his face. Something about it cut Harry to the quick. And then Draco laughed shakily and shook his head. “You really need to make up your mind.”

“I had hoped you’d see sense after being cast out of the Manor, if only for your mother’s sake,” Lucius replied coldly. “Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“Don’t bring Mother into this,” Draco hissed dangerously. “This is your doing, not hers. She wants me to be happy. _She’s_ not the one who disinherited me for something I can’t help.”

“I don’t claim to understand a mother’s heart,” Lucius replied dismissively. “The fact remains that you’ve failed her. This _perversion_ of yours left her heart broken, did you know that? Correct me if I’m wrong, Draco but she hasn’t seen you in six years. Do you deny it?”

“You won’t let me come home!” Draco yelled back. The tinge of pain and desperation in his voice was impossible to miss. “You won’t...you won’t even let me see her.” He was shaking now and Harry had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to him. Not now. Not here, under Lucius Malfoy’s hawk like eye. Those eyes were trained on Draco again, cold and unforgiving. Lucius sneered.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” he replied smoothly. “She wants to forget you even exist.”

“That’s not true,” Draco whispered. His voice was shaky and there was a wet sheen to his eyes now. Harry swallowed around a painful lump in his throat. This was bad. It was worse than he could have ever imagined...

Lucius smirked and ghosted a pale hand against his robes, brushing some imaginary lint off. “Oh, but it is. Leave this place, Draco. I won’t have you upset your mother any more than you already have. It would be better for her if she just forgot about you.”

And then he was gone— turning his back on his son without a second thought. Harry’s fingers flexed as he debated the merits of hexing an ex Death Eater in the back. Anger coiled deep in his gut. It was nothing less than the bastard deserved after what he’d put his son through. His heart went out to Draco. What must it have been like to...

Draco.

Harry whirled around, just in time to see a slim profile retreating, walking away from him with quick, purposeful strides.

He was leaving. He was going away. Harry wouldn’t see him again.

Damn it!

Harry took a moment to curse Lucius Malfoy to the depths of hell, and then he took off.

 

****

“Okay, that’s it,” Blaise announced, as he watched Draco retreating towards the parking lot. “I’m going down there. I have to stop him.”

“No!” Hermione snapped, pulling him back. “Don’t meddle in this!”

Ron suppressed a snort as he watched his sister, his soon to be brother-in-law _and_ his wife still huddled shamelessly at the window. “Yeah, I think that ship has sailed,” he said dryly.

“Stupid Lucius Malfoy,” Ginny grumbled petulantly. “He always ruins everything! What are we supposed to do about...oh, look!” She pointed frantically as Harry suddenly took off, running full-speed after Malfoy.

“He’s going after him!” Hermione squeaked in excitement. “Okay, this is good. They’ll talk and... I can’t see them anymore. They’re too far away!”

“There’s another window in the lobby,” Blaise supplied.

Ron sighed as they exchanged delighted looks and took off running again. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” he grumbled, getting up and trudging after them.

 

****

 

For a moment there, he thought Draco had Disapparated.

Harry skidded to a halt in the parking lot, looking around frantically. Not a sign of him.

Harry groaned in despair. Perfect. Just bloody perfect! Draco was gone— possibly forever, all thanks to his rotten father— and Harry didn’t even get to say he was sorry for acting like a complete arse. Of course, if he had known what the poor bloke had been through, he wouldn’t have but there was no way he could tell Draco that now, could he? He was probably miles away by now, getting a Portkey and disappearing to some country on the other side of the world and...

The unmistakable whirring of an engine cut through his frantic thoughts. Headlights flashed in his face as The Chevy slid out of its spot. Harry whipped around at once.

Of course! The car!

And then he was running again. This seemed to happen a lot these days….

Thankfully, Draco was nice enough to stop all of three inches from him. The window slid down and a blond head poked out. “What?” Draco snapped, glaring at him. “For Merlin’s sake, what could you possibly want now, Potter?”

Okay. Here goes nothing.

Harry held his hands out in a placating gesture.  “Well, for one thing I’d really like it if you stayed,” he said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “Please don’t go.”

Draco’s eyes flashed. Even from this distance, Harry could see the glint of steel, as clear as day. Oh, he was pissed. Draco set his jaw and revved the engine. It thrummed threateningly, a final warning. Harry swallowed. In hindsight, standing in front of a car with an angry Draco Malfoy behind the wheel may not have been one of his best ideas.

Draco confirmed this by revving the car again “Move or I’ll run you over,” he growled. “I mean it.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Harry blurted hastily. He was aware that he was just rambling now but if he was talking, it meant Draco was listening. And if Draco was listening, at least he wasn’t driving away. “I believe you,” Harry went on. “I believe that you’re going to back up that car and run me over in the next five seconds. But that’s exactly why you have to stay.”

Draco was unnervingly silent but he didn’t take any of Harry’s helpful suggestions— which was probably a good thing because Harry didn’t really know what the hell he was doing here. All he knew was that Draco couldn’t leave. Not just yet.  Not until Harry had figured out just how he’d gone from ‘Malfoy’ to ‘Draco’ in last half hour without him even realising it.

“What does that mean?” Draco demanded suspiciously.

Harry cracked a rueful grin. “It’s going to be a boring wedding without you, that’s all.”

“You’ve been trying to get me out the door since the moment I got here,” Draco accused angrily. “Well, congratulations, Potter. You’ve finally got someone in your corner. Now please, just get out of my way so I can get the hell out of here. I can’t even...” He slumped back in the seat and scrubbed a tired hand through his hair, messing it all up. “He was right,” he said softly. “I don’t belong here. I never should have come back.”

“Hey, no. Don’t...don’t talk like that, okay?” He approached cautiously, heaving a sigh of relief when Draco made no move to rev the car again.At least he wasn’t gone. Yet. But he would, if Harry didn’t stop him. So, he took a chance. He opened the car door and slipped in, all the while aware of the grey eyes still glaring suspiciously at him.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Draco asked flatly.

“One of my many stellar qualities,” Harry replied with a shameless grin. It was true, after all. Trust Malfoy to call him out on it. It was nice to know some things never changed. And then, as he stole a glance at the angry, hurt young man next to him, long fingers clutching at the steering wheel and eyes trained dead ahead, he had to admit that sometimes things did change— and not always for the better.

Harry spoke up finally, because clearly Draco wasn’t going to do it. “What happened back there...well, that was bloody awful. Just brutal.”

Draco huffed but the strained lines of his mouth lifted just a bit. “You don’t say,” he drawled. He turned to cast an accusing glare in Harry’s direction. “I told you to leave. It was none of your damn business.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Draco sighed and leaned back in his seat, exposing the long line of his throat. Harry tried very hard not to stare. This was so not the time.

“Don’t be,” Draco muttered. “It’s what you do. It seems you’re just _meant_ to see me at my worst.”

Harry managed another rueful smile. If that wasn’t an understatement, he didn’t know what was. “If it helps at all, I don’t think many people could have done what you did back there.”

“Most people have the sense to cut their losses and give in,” Draco retorted. “Especially when Lucius Malfoy is involved.”

“That’s true. I guess you and I have something in common, then.”

Draco stony expression gave way to surprise. Much better, Harry thought. He could actually get used to the sight of those wide eyes and parted lips. Maybe under slightly different circumstances but…

“Don’t let him drive you off again,” he said softly. “If he can’t understand why you left— why you’re _you_ —then that’s his problem. Not yours.”

“I don’t care what _he_ thinks,” Draco muttered bitterly. “But…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Harry could read it loud and clear in his eyes. What if his mother hated him? What if he had hurt her? That’s what he was really afraid of. What if he met her here and she turned away from him? Harry took another chance. He reached out and took Draco’s hand, squeezing around those slim fingers in reassurance. Draco stiffened but didn’t pull away. Something about it felt...right. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to convince Draco to stay. He just had to.

“The wedding is tomorrow. Stay until then,” Harry suggested tentatively. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. And when it’s over, well...you can always leave if you want to.”

There was silence for a while. Harry waited as Draco thought about it, drumming his fingers against the wheel. Harry tried not to squirm in impatience.

Finally, it was Draco who spoke. “I think I need to...not think about this for now,” he said finally. “Or ever.”

Harry chuckled. “That sounds about right. So, do you want to go and— I don’t know— just hang out somewhere? Relax a bit?”

Did he just do that? Did he just ask Draco out on a date, sort of? Harry was starting to wonder if he would ever make sense of the stunts he was pulling these days.

Malfoy seemed a bit surprised at the offer, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he cocked his head in just the barest indication of interest. “What do you have in mind?”

Harry tried not to let his smile turn into an all out grin. “Come on,” he said, getting out of the car. “Take a walk with me.”

 

****

 

“Okay, they’re getting out of the car now...”

“Are they holding hands? Are they... Blaise, I can’t _see_ anything with you crowding me like that!”

“Will you two keep it down a bit? They’re just walking now. Where are they going? There’s nothing there...”

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re going to that lighthouse in the woods. Harry loves that spot. He goes there all the time.”

Hermione, Ginny and Blaise gaped at Ron who cleared his throat uncomfortably. “What?” he demanded petulantly. “I want to play too.”

Hermione laughed and pulled him in for a kiss, while Blaise and Ginny smiled as they stared out the window at the two retreating figures. “You know,” Ginny whispered, leaning against him. “I think we can consider this challenge completed.”

Blaise just smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

 

****

 

The stars were brighter than the last time he had come here. The full moon was out and there was a still silence surrounding the lighthouse, peaceful and tranquil. It really was beautiful, and yet Harry couldn’t bring himself to look. All his attention was focused on the man beside him.

Draco’s lean body looked softer in the moonlight somehow. All those sharp planes and angles gave way to something less severe. Or perhaps, Harry had just never taken the time to really look at the curve of Draco’s pale neck, the smooth dip of his back and those long, sweeping eyelashes playing off the dim light as he looked out into the distance.

It took him a minute to realise Draco was talking to him.

“I have to hand it to you, Potter,” he said, with just a hint of teasing in his voice. “A rusty, abandoned lighthouse that might collapse and send us to our deaths at any second. You sure know how to make a bloke feel special.”

Harry chuckled, joining him at the railing. “Only the best for a handsome devil like you,” he teased back.

Draco didn’t reply save for a slight smile. They had talked for what seemed like hours and it was possible that they had actually touched upon anything and everything that had happened to both of them in the last six years.

Harry had spoken fondly of his job and his life, coming out and his never ending search for the right person. Draco had been hesitant at first but eventually, he’d told Harry of his adventures abroad— he seemed particularly fond of India, for some reason— and how good it felt to come home, even if he had enjoyed seeing the world.

Now they were standing there, looking out at the stars in silence. It was a nice silence, though. Comfortable. Oddly intimate. For once, Harry felt like nothing else needed to be said and he didn’t think he had ever felt that way before. No,  _this_ was new.

He remembered the first time he had come to this place, just a few nights before Draco had shown up. The promise he had made. He had marked this place for someone special, someone important. The...whoever he was fated to be with. Somehow— for whatever unfathomable reason— he had ended up here with Draco Malfoy of all people.

Was there a reason they had come together like this? Did it mean something? Was the universe finally coming through for him?

He didn’t know. But for once, he really didn’t care so much about where he ended up so long as he could take his time getting there.

So long as he could take his time to figure out this man who infuriated and intrigued him; who excited and challenged him; who was insanely hard to understand but so easy to talk to. Someone with so many different sides to him that Harry wondered if he would ever see them all.

And he really wanted to see them all.

It felt exciting. It felt...right. Even if this was all it would ever be, it still felt right. And the more they talked, the more he heard about Draco’s story, the more right it felt.

“Let me see if I understand this,” Harry said after a beat of silence. “So you’re the reason Hermione came home, you’re what made Ginny come back, you’re the one who sent Blaise back to raise his daughter and you brought Ron here.”

He had heard the stories from his friends before, but to hear Draco’s side of it... it really was astounding how many times their paths had almost crossed. Like there was something bigger at play— fate or destiny or something— not that Harry would ever admit it. Draco hardly needed another reason to make fun of him.

“When you say it like that it just sounds mad,” Draco replied dryly.

Harry chuckled. “It’s just baffling.”

Draco cocked his head enquiringly and Harry shifted closer.

“Even when you were gone, you were still such a huge part of my life. You were just there and I didn’t even know it.”

Draco grinned and nudged him. “Why do you think it took us this long to find each other?” he asked. “Why now? Why here?”

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered back. “But I’m willing to find out if you are.”

Draco didn’t reply. Instead, he looped his arms around Harry and brought their lips together. It was different, this time. Soft, almost chaste, a barely there flutter of that soft mouth under his, and yet Harry could have sworn nothing had ever felt this good, this right before.

“Harry,” Draco murmured against his mouth. “Thank you...for asking me to stay. No one's ever done that before.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Harry replied. “Not unless you plan to stick around for a long time.”

Draco smiled against his lips. “You know, I think I just might. It looks like there’s finally something to come back for.”

Harry’s heart soared as they shared another kiss.

 

****

**The Wedding...**

 

“I can’t do this. I can’t _do_ this!” Blaise whispered frantically as he was all but dragged to the altar, one Best Man on each side. He cursed inwardly. If he’d tried hard enough, he probably _could_ have talked Harry into letting him slip out ‘for a walk’ but Draco was too smart to fall for that. Nevertheless, here he was eight minutes to the big day and he had every intention of giving it one last shot. 

“It’s not natural!” he protested haplessly, dragging his feet. “I’m going to wreck it. I’ll say my vows wrong or drop the rings or something. What was I thinking? I’m not made for marriage! I’m a playboy! I’m supposed to be in bars, making bad life choices. Helping young women make bad life choices! It’s what I do!”

“And this,” Draco drawled, tightening his grip on Blaise’s arm, “is why you have Two Best Men.”

Harry snickered and jostled Blaise for good measure. “It’s too late,” he agreed cheerfully. “This is it, mate. End of the line.”

“No,” Blaise whined fretfully. The altar where his entire life would change was just a little ways down. His friends and family would be watching with hopeful faces and excited whispers, the Minister would smile benevolently and then...he would say the words and he’d be wed to Ginny for the rest of his life. Married to the most beautiful, wonderful girl in the world...

For the _rest of his life_.

“No,” Blaise whispered, practically paralysed with fear. “No no no no…”

Harry and Draco exchanged exasperated glances as they watched him descend into near hysterics. Fortunately, Ron chose that moment to amble up. “And how are we doing this fine day?” he asked cheerfully.

Draco rolled his eyes and gestured to Blaise who was holding his head in his hands now. “Exhibit A,” he drawled.

Ron snickered and shook his head. “All you had to do was keep your paws off my sister,” he informed Blaise. “But if it makes you feel any better, Ginny’s had a few panic attacks of her own.”

Blaise’s head snapped up. “She has?”

“Tried to climb out the window, if I’m not mistaken. Mione stopped her in time.”

“The window!” Blaise moaned miserably. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Ron ignored him and ushered Harry forward. “You’re up, Harry,” he said. “Get him in shape, will you? Mum’s going to have a fit if there are _two_ runners at the wedding.”

Blaise managed another whine of abject misery before Harry stepped in. “No one’s going to run,” he said. “Not on my watch.”

He put his hands on Blaise’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Now look,” he said firmly. “You are one of the most reckless, confusing, infuriating people I’ve ever met. You know, barring a few.” He had to fight a smile as he caught Draco’s eye roll. Instead he focused on calming the terrified groom who looked fit to bolt any second. “You’re insane, you’re _impossible,_ you’re responsible for more than half the messes I get into on a regular basis and sometimes I just don’t get how you ended up being one of my best friends. But here we are. Six years and we’re still here. And I _know_ you can do this because you’re Blaise Zabini. You’ve got a plan for everything, a play for every situation and when you don’t, you make it up as you go along. That’s what you’re going to do today. I promise when it’s done, you’ll come out just fine. Like you _always_ do.”

His fine speech was met by impressed silence. For once, even Blaise seemed to have nothing to say. But finally, a slight smile tugged at his lips and he nodded. “Because I’m awesome,” he added tentatively.

Harry chuckled and clapped his back. “Because you’re awesome,” he agreed.

That helped. Blaise nodded and straightened himself. He brushed a competent hand over his suit and fixed his tie. “Okay,” he said, half to himself. “Who’s got the rings?”

“Right here,” Draco replied, patting his pocket.

“The vows?”

“You know them by heart,” Harry told him.

Blaise squared his shoulders and nodded again. “I guess we’re ready then.”

“Not quite,” Ron cut in suddenly. “There’s one more thing to take care of before this goes any further.” He stepped up and clasped Blaise’s shoulder, looking uncharacteristically sombre. “You’re a nutter,” Ron said. “But I can’t think of a better man for my little sister.”

Blaise smiled. “Thanks, Ron. That means a lot.”

“So, I’ve got a little something for you. Just for old time’s sake. This goes out to you, mate. I just want you to know you bloody well deserve it.”

Blaise froze like he’d been Petrified. Ron’s grin widened ominously. Realisation struck and Harry just about managed an incredulous bark of laughter before...

**SLAP!**

“Yes!” Draco cheered as Blaise went crashing to the floor. “Well done, Weasley! Consider us even.”

“And that’s five,” Ron grinned smugly, dusting his hands off.

Harry chuckled and helped a shaky Blaise to his feet. “Nice, Ron,” he quipped dryly. “Now we’ll never get him out there and…”

“Wait,” Blaise broke in suddenly. He stared up at Ron with wide, unblinking eyes. “Did you say five?”

Ron smiled. “I said five.”

An incredulous grin broke out on Blaise’s face. “He said five! That’s all of them! I’m _free!”_

Ron clapped his shoulder. “Congratulations mate. Now, do you feel like getting out there or do you want to sit down for a bit and…”

“Are you kidding?” Blaise retorted, still grinning delightedly. “I’m bloody free! This is the single best day of my life. Now what are you lot waiting for? Let’s get out there and do this!”

They watched in amusement as he marched off, head held high and shoulders squared.

“And that is a wedding present,” Ron said smugly, dusting his hands off. He gave them a parting wink before heading back to check up on Ginny.

Harry just chuckled in amusement and set off after the determined groom, taking their place beside him at the altar. And if Draco slipped a hand in his as they stood there, nobody thought to mention it.

 

****

 

_Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present for the first time ever, Mr and Mrs Zabini._

The announcement rang out accompanied by thunderous applause. Harry smiled and raised a glass as Blaise and Ginny shared another kiss. So much for nerves. He didn’t think they’d ever looked happier. Ginny beamed as Dani clapped and squealed in Bianca’s lap. Blaise suffered thumps on the back and handshakes from his enthusiastic brothers-in-law and Molly smiled and dabbed her eyes.

“They did it,” he murmured, taking in the scene. “Merlin help us all, those two are actually married.”

“I give it six weeks,” Draco replied. He laughed and dodged as Harry shoved him playfully. “Oh, fine. They look good,” he relented, letting Harry slip an arm around him. His eyes softened as he regarded the happy couple. “That’s the real thing. That right there is the beginning of something beautiful.”

Harry’s eyes drifted to him. “It is,” he agreed. Draco’s smile widened and he squeezed Harry’s hand.

“Harry, I…”

“Oi, you two!” Ron called out. “What are you still doing here? They’re looking for you on the dance floor.”

Right. The Dance. He saw Blaise and Ginny making their way to the floor. Ginny beckoned urgently, indicating that he and Draco were next. Harry smiled. Somehow, he had pictured this moment very differently. It was funny how things turned out. His hand slipped around Draco’s waist and held tight.

“We’re coming, Weasley,” Draco called back. “Don’t get your wand in a knot.” He rolled his eyes as Ron discreetly flipped him the bird and turned back to Harry. “Ready?”

Harry smiled and shook his head, gently pushing Draco forward. “Actually, I think you should have the first dance with someone else.”

Draco frowned in confusion. He opened his mouth to respond but then his eyes followed Harry’s gaze to one of the tables in the back.

Even from across the room, Narcissa Malfoy was unmistakable. She looked resplendent in her pale blue robes, smiling and conversing politely with Bianca while Lucius Malfoy looked on with a bored, disdainful expression. Harry had been watching her since the beginning of the ceremony. The way her eyes drifted to Draco ever now and then, the hesitance to approach him, the same questioning uncertainty Harry had seen in Draco’s eyes so often...

Harry had decided to do something about it, Lucius Malfoy be damned.

Draco froze in his tracks. He went so far as to take a step back. Harry gave him a gentle push forward. “Go on,” he whispered.

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Draco muttered, trying to pull away from him. “You heard him. She doesn’t...”

“Maybe you should let _her_ tell you that,” Harry insisted. Draco looked ready to argue, but Harry was having none of it. He pushed him forward again. “Trust me,” he ordered softly. “And save me a dance.”

Draco faltered and swallowed thickly. “If this ends badly,” he told Harry, “you owe me a lot more than a dance.”

“I’ll be here.”

That seemed to help. Draco smiled hesitantly and squeezed his hand for reassurance. “You better be,” he replied. He squared his shoulders and turned, moving forward. Harry stiffened instinctively as Lucius turned and caught sight of him. His eyes narrowed but Draco just held his head high, walking past him towards his mother. Harry’s heart hammered in his chest. Suddenly, he was nervous. He just hoped this turned out alright.

Narcissa turned around.

And just like that Harry knew his fears were unfounded.

“Draco.” Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard it. He saw her eyes light up with pure joy. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch him, as if afraid he would disappear again. Something tightened in Harry’s chest. This was clearly a woman who had missed her son dearly, every single second he’d been away.

“Mother,” Draco greeted. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he reached out to take her hand. “You look well.”

“As do you,” Narcissa murmured affectionately. She traced a slim hand across his cheek, brushing his hair back gently. “My boy. I’ve missed you so much...”

“I’m home now,” Draco promised fervently. “May I have this dance?”

“Narcissa,” Lucius growled, stepping in at once. “Don’t speak to that…”

“Oh, shut up,” Draco retorted, not even bothering to look at him. For now, he only had eyes for his mother.

And she only had eyes for him. Narcissa smiled and took his arm. “I thought you’d never ask, darling,” she replied, leading him away without as much as a backwards glance.

Harry grinned and stepped back without a word, giving them way as Draco led her to the dance floor. From the corner of his eye, he caught Lucius gnashing his teeth. Harry shot him a cheeky grin and raised a glass. Lucius glared daggers at him and stormed off, making a dramatic exit through the back door. And that was that. Harry smiled and sipped his champagne, watching Draco and his mother glided across the dance floor.

Good times were here again. Good times, indeed.

 

****

 

It took a while before he could finally claim the promised dance. Now that Narcissa finally had her precious son around again, she wasn’t exactly happy about letting him out of her sights. Harry had to swear up and down that he would absolutely not give Draco any access to a Portkey but eventually, he did get his dance. 

“So, how about it?” he asked Draco, when he finally had him back in his arms again. “Did it go as well as you hoped?”

“Better than I hoped,” Draco replied. “I suppose I don’t have to go away again. Not for a while, at least.”

Something twisted in Harry’s chest at the thought of Draco leaving, even hypothetically. “I’m glad you’re staying,” he replied finally. Draco gave him a questioning look and Harry hastened to follow up his line of reasoning. “I mean, for your mother. I’m sure she’s happy you’re finally home.”

“She is,” Draco agreed quietly. He lowered his gaze and leaned into Harry. “I’m...hoping she isn’t the only one.”

Grey eyes stared at him with a mixture of hope and apprehension. Harry’s pulse thrummed and he leaned in closer, just brushing his lips against Draco’s. “She’s not,” he whispered. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re going to be around for a while. But if you decide to take off again, you should probably know that I’m coming right after you.”

He knew he’d do it too. People had come and people had gone and people had come back again, but he had never thought to follow them. But with Draco, there was no question about it. Until last week, he hadn’t even known they would ever cross paths again. But now that they had, now that all of this had happened, he knew it was true. He felt it right down to his bones. He would follow the boy with the grey eyes anywhere.

Draco laughed and kissed him. “You didn’t go after anyone else. What makes me so special?”

That, Harry conceded was an excellent question. Fortunately, he knew the right answer.

“You’re Draco,” he said.

_You’re The One._

Well, maybe it was a bit soon to jump to conclusions. But Harry had a good feeling about this. He really did. Especially when Draco’s smile widened and his eyes lit up, and he leaned in for another kiss. Harry didn’t think he would ever get tired of that smile…

“Isn’t that just precious?”

Of course.

Harry sighed, disentangled himself from Draco. “What?” he grumbled, scowling as Blaise and Ginny sauntered over. “We’re busy. Go play happy couple somewhere else.”

“We plan to,” Ginny retorted, jostling him playfully. She grinned and took Blaise’s arm. “We just thought we’d say goodbye before taking off for Morocco.”

Oh, of course. They were leaving for their around the world trip. Harry had forgotten about that. “Now?” he asked. “As in, right this very second now?”

Blaise nodded. “We have a Portkey waiting.”

“Wow.” His best friends were leaving. And married. And he had no idea when he’d see them again. “I’ll miss you.”

“No, you won’t,” Ginny grinned, giving Draco a pointed look. “I have a feeling you’re going to be _very_ busy from now on.”

Draco smirked and leaned against Harry again. “Yes well, we’re just going to pretend we have _no_ idea you lot had anything to do with this,” he informed her. He raised an eyebrow as she exchanged a semi guilty look with her new husband.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blaise informed him firmly. “Also, please don’t disappear again. I don’t want to come home and find out you’re in Yemen or something.”

Draco smiled. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, sharing a look with Harry. “I think I’ll stick around for a while.”

Harry grinned and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Go on and have your little world tour,” he told Blaise. “He’s not going anywhere.” His arms tightened possessively around Draco but he didn’t seem to mind all that much.

“I’m not,” he agreed softly. “There’s finally something to stay for.”

“Ugh, they’re disgusting,” Ginny put in with an exaggerated shudder. “Promise me, we’ll never be like that, Blaise.”

Blaise chuckled and put his arm around her. “You can count on…”

“Um, guys?”

Everyone turned around. Ron was standing right behind them, looking absolutely terrified. Harry stared at his pale, shaky friend and alarm surged inside him. As if on cue, his Auror instincts went on high alert at once.

“Ron? What’s going on? Why are you...”

Ron cleared his throat, wringing his hands nervously. “So, it looks like we’ve got a slight problem.”

**“Ronald Bilius Weasley!”**

Harry jumped. He could have sworn that Hermione’s resounding shriek was echoing all the way from the other side of the inn. What in the...

“I swear I’m going to kill you!” she railed on. “You complete jackass! This is all your fau- **aaaugh!”**

“Good grief, what did you do?” Ginny demanded, wincing and rubbing her ear.

Ron swallowed audibly and turned back to them slowly. His next words brought their entire lives to a standstill.

“The baby’s coming.”

Harry registered very little save for those three words, Draco’s fingers tightening reflexively around his own and a collective gasp from the rest of the group.

 “What?!” Ginny shrilled. “What do you mean... _now?_ ”

“ **Ron!** When I get my hands on you, I’m going to… **ohmygod** , **get it out of me!** ”

Ron looked about one step from collapsing with sheer fright. “Now,” he whimpered.

“But she’s just…”

“Apparently, little Hugo decided to make an early entrance!” Ron snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, we weren’t exactly prepared!”

**“You randy, inconsiderate son of a ...”**

Draco winced. “Weasley, I’m not an expert on these things but I would suggest getting her to St Mungos right now— preferably _before_ she disembowels you.”

Ron nodded dazedly, apparently still a little shell-shocked. “Mum’s on it. We’re taking the Floo to St Mungo’s. I just... oh Merlin, the baby’s coming. I’m...I’m going to be a father.” He turned frantic, beseeching eyes on his friends. “I’m not ready for this. I can’t do this. I’m...”

“You’ll be fine, Ron,” Harry soothed at once, patting his back gently. “You’ve got this.”

Ron nodded slowly, training his hopeful gaze on Harry. “Come with me?” he asked. “I could really use a friend there.”

“Of course,” Harry replied at once, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m there, mate. Now get going. I’m right behind you. I just need to say goodbye to Draco and...”

“I’m coming too,” Draco cut in. He smirked when Harry turned to give him a surprised look. “In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, yes?”

Harry grinned, giving his hand a grateful squeeze. “Okay then,” he announced. “Let’s...”

“Wait for us!” Ginny screeched. She kicked off her shoes and lifted up her voluminous dress. “Okay, I’m set. Let’s go!”

Ron stared at her. “Don’t you have a Portkey to Morocco in ten minutes?”

Ginny waved him off impatiently. “If you think I’m going to miss my nephew being born, you’re barking!  Morocco will be there tomorrow or next year, or whatever. We’ll wing it! Now are we talking, or are we walking? Let’s move, people!”

“Right behind you, Mrs Zabini,” Blaise drawled, hoisting her shoes over his shoulder and taking off after her. He grabbed a stunned Ron’s arm and propelled him forward. “Snap out of it, brother-in-law. Breathe in, breathe out. There you go, that’s the ticket...”

Draco raised an eyebrow as they stumbled off. “Well, at least it won’t be boring,” he quipped.

Harry laughed and wrapped an arm around him. “Everyday with this mad lot is an adventure,” he said, hurrying towards the Floo. “Stick with me, Draco. At the very least, I can promise you won’t get bored.”

Draco laughed out loud. His eyes shone with amusement and he quickened his footsteps to match Harry’s. “Come on then. Let’s go have an adventure.”

Just before they stepped in the Floo, Harry stole a kiss that Draco was only too willing to give away.

He didn’t know why, but...he had a good feeling about this.

He really did.

 

~*~*~*~*~ **Present Day** ~*~*~*~*~

 

“And that kids, is the story of how I met your Father.”

Harry raised an eyebrow as his children exchanged confused glances.

“Wait, that’s it?” James blurted finally. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Harry agreed.

Scorpius threw his arms in the air. “ _We met at a wedding_ ,” he bit out. “Five words. Really, how hard is it?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Lily admonished. “You enjoyed it.”

Scorpius shrugged. “It wasn’t the worst of Dad’s stories,” he conceded fairly. “Unless someone wants to revisit the Chamber of Secrets saga again.”

“Merlin, no,” Al grumbled. “It’s bad enough we have to read about that in History of Magic.”

Harry laughed and ruffled his hair. “Well, not every chapter of my life made it into a famous book. And thank Merlin for it. Some stories...well, they’re too special to be shared. This one is just for you.”

“But there’s still so much you haven’t told us,” Lily insisted. “How did Grandfather Lucius come around?”

“Oh, that took a while,” Harry told her. “But the first time he actually called me his son-in-law was when we went to the Manor for a visit, right after we adopted Scorpius.”

“Me,” Scorpius chirped smugly. “ _I_ brought him around. You’re all _very_ welcome.”

“He likes me best,” Lily told him primly. “He calls me his Beautiful Princess.”

James grinned. “No. That’s what he calls Albus.” He laughed and dodged as his offended sibling threw a cushion at him.

Al halted mid assault and gave him a glare that promised future retribution before turning back to Harry. “Did you ever find out where the pineapple came from?”

“No. That remains a mystery until this day.”

“Brilliant,” Al groaned. “Now I’ll be up all night thinking about it.”

James frowned too. “Actually, now that we’re talking about it...what _does_ Uncle Blaise do for a living?”

“That information is classified,” a new voice replied.

They all turned around and Harry’s eyes lit up as his husband sauntered in. Draco shucked his coat and smiled at him, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement. Harry greeted him with a quick kiss, despite a round of vehement protests from his offspring. “And how long have you been eavesdropping?” he asked.

Draco smiled mischievously. “Just a while,” he replied. “You were so caught up in storytelling. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“More like you didn’t want to get stuck too,” James put in cheekily. 

Draco raised an eyebrow at his son. “Watch your tone, young man. And just so you know, we need you to watch your brothers and sister tonight.”

“We’re not babies,” Al protested.

“Oh, come on,” James whined. “Why?”

Draco grinned and took Harry’s arm. “Your father and I are going out. It is our anniversary, you know.”

 

****

 

“There they are!” Ron called cheerfully, the second they entered the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione smiled and waved, pulling out an extra chair for Draco. Harry smiled. Even after all these years, she sometimes forgot that there was one more permanent member in their ever-present group now. She’d been pulling out an extra chair for Draco for years. It was practically a tradition now.

“One of these days,” Draco drawled, settling beside her, “I’m going to assume you just don’t want me around. Then I’ll leave and start a band in Brussels, and you’ll be sorry, Granger.”

Just like Draco still called her ‘Granger’ despite her being a Weasley for over twenty years. Harry shook his head in amusement. He’d learned the hard way not to come between those two.

Hermione laughed and nudged Draco teasingly. “Thank you for sending over the drum set for Hugo’s last birthday, by the way,” she retorted, arching an eyebrow. “He plays it in the middle of the night. We’re _eternally_ grateful.”

Draco grinned. “What can I say? The kid’s a born musician. How’s little Rosie?”

Ron chuckled. “Little Rosie turned fifteen last month,” he replied. “And her NEWTS are driving her spare. Takes after her mum, that one.”

“Good,” Draco said. “Maybe she’ll nag James into studying once in a while.”

“I don’t nag!” Hermione protested indignantly. Her glare darkened as all three men at the table burst into laughter. “Oh, shut up,” she grumbled.

Harry suppressed a snicker. “Not to change the subject or anything but has anyone heard from our resident globetrotters recently? Where were they the last time we checked? Mexico?”

“Australia, you berk,” a familiar voice informed him.

Harry turned and smiled as Ginny sauntered over. “You made it,” he said, extending a welcoming arm.

“Well, of course we did. Happy Anniversary, you two,” she added, giving him and Draco a hug each. “Sorry, we’re late,” she added. “There were two eighteen year old girls at the bar and Blaise stopped by …”

“Call me crazy, but I thought he’d _stop_ doing that after marrying you,” Ron cut in.

“Oh, you didn’t let me finish,” Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. “He stopped by to lecture those poor girls on how to make good life decisions. Step one, don’t show up at a bar in a tank top.” She sighed and took a look at her watch. “Actually, he should be done just about…”

“And call your parents, young lady! They’re probably worried sick about you!”

“Now,” Ginny finished dryly.

“I’m telling you, it’s awful!” Blaise ranted, making his customary entrance. “The things kids are wearing these days. If Dani starts dressing like that, I’m going to hex myself. Oh, hey guys. Happy Anniversary.” He grinned and nudged Ginny over, sitting beside her. “Okay, what are we drinking?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Draco drawled.

Blaise grinned brightly and slung an arm around his wife. Harry summoned the glasses. It was as good a time for a toast as any, he supposed.

“Ooh, Glen McKenna,” Ginny chirped gleefully, as he poured the scotch out. “We go big tonight!”

“We go big tonight,” Harry agreed. He smiled at the most important people in his life and raised a glass. “To all you tossers,” he intoned solemnly. “Thank you for being here, for being a part of my life. Thank you for some of the best and worst memories of my life. That’s right, Blaise. The _worst._ That’s you, right there.”

“Oh, come on,” Blaise grumbled. “I was awesome.”

“You’re still awesome,” Ginny said, smiling and kissing his cheek.

Hermione laughed and stepped in to follow up his fine speech. “To always being there for the big things,” she said. “And the little ones— _especially_ the little ones.”

“To finding home,” Draco added. He smiled and his soft grey eyes glinted with affection as he regarded Harry. “And something worth sticking around for.”

Harry smiled and traced his husband’s jaw with his thumb, leaning in for a sweet, unhurried kiss. Draco’s lips parted and Harry pulled him closer...

“Fifteen years,” Ginny drawled. “ _Fifteen_ years, and they still act like it’s their first kiss ever.”

“I know,” Blaise added. “It’s disgusting."

“Personally, I’m all for it,” Ron added. “Do you remember what Harry was like before Malfoy showed up?”

“ _I’ll never find The One. Oh, how will I ever find The One?_ ” Ginny piped up, affecting a shrill whinging voice. “Gods, it was endless.”

Draco snickered and Harry rolled his eyes, breaking away. “Very amusing,” he told them flatly. “That scotch you’re guzzling costs four hundred Galleons, by the way.”

“To Harry and Draco!” Ginny blurted immediately. The others followed suit with their own cheers and soon, that old booth tucked away in a corner of The Leaky Cauldron echoed with laughter and clinking glasses. Just like it always had. Just like it always will. Harry looked around at the people in his life — Ron sneaking a few fries when Hermione wasn’t looking, Ginny and Blaise making plans to see Dani’s match next week and Draco...Draco with his grey eyes and his soft, affectionate smile, Draco who had shown up in his life one day and made it complete. The only man, the only person he had ever loved— so much that he would sit his children down and have them listen to the story of how they met, whether they liked it or not.

Because after all these years and all the years that might go by after tonight, one thing was clear as day to him.

He _had_ finally found The One.

“I love you,” Harry whispered.

And Draco smiled that beautiful smile just for him. “I love you too,” he whispered back. “Happy Anniversary, Harry.”

“Happy Anniversary,” Harry murmured. Somewhere in the background, he was vaguely aware of Ron and Blaise arguing about the Cannons’ chances at the Cup this year, of Hermione groaning as they made another Slap Bet. Ginny laughed and her glass tinkled as she raised it in a mock toast.

It made him want to burst out laughing because really, _this_ was his life.

His inexplicable, crazy, wonderful life.

And when he kissed Draco again, he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Just so long as he ended up right back here in this very booth in this very bar, with these wonderful, mad people again.

He would do it all over in a heartbeat.

 

**THE END**

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